


ETERNAL HORIZONS

by BetterBeMeta



Category: Doom (Video Games), どうぶつの森 | Animal Crossing Series
Genre: Doomguy defeats Hell in a brand new way, Gen, Multimedia, Wholesome, there is more to Animal Crossing than the games let on, unlikely best friends, wildly different settings inhabiting the same universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 23,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24816376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetterBeMeta/pseuds/BetterBeMeta
Summary: Isabelle has faithfully kept the town of █████ in order since the Mayor departed. She counts the hours, days, months, and years that pass, waiting. In the twilight of her abandoned world, she did not anticipate the arrival of another human being: one so unlike the Mayor, there can be no comparison. And this human being meets Isabelle, the only being in all dimensions to welcome him without fear or hesitation.The covenant formed between them shall be legendary.
Relationships: Doom Slayer | Doomguy & Shizue | Isabelle
Comments: 102
Kudos: 221





	1. DEAD-END JOB

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the moment hasn't passed! It just takes a while to write and finish a whole story in the period of time a meme is relevant. 
> 
> This is the product of a few months writing, drawing furiously every scrap of free time I can pry away from my job. 
> 
> Special thanks to the outpouring of love on the internet for what would have just been a shitpost. Animal Crossing and DOOM belong together now. I had to make sure of this.

It was Saturday, April 18, 20�▯ at[ 7:34 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmtKHo7GB64) PM in the town of █████. In the town hall, one single employee sat at her desk, feeling herself drift off. The ceiling paint was beginning to peel very slightly in the corner… tomorrow, she thought, she had to look into that, or maybe if she closed her eyes, it would go away....

“Snap out of it, silly!” she muttered to herself. “It’s not time for a nap…”

She looked back at the mayor’s desk. Still 100% clean, just like how she left it this morning after dusting, turning the calendar pages, and moving the papers to her own stack. There wasn’t much to process these days anyway.

It was looking like they wouldn’t show up last thing in the day. And she’d definitely get a call if they showed up in the middle of the night, like that one time in 2014…

She went down her list. Resident census, processed. Weed patrol… tomorrow. Donations towards that new bridge the mayor had been funding… not anything, really. 

“I guess it’s time to go home,” she told herself experimentally, and packed up her little bag, gathered up the trash bin with the remains of her tuna sandwich wrapper, and locked up. The night air was unusually warm for the middle of spring. She hoped it would bring the summer bugs out early. The mayor always liked hunting for those.

“Isabelle!” 

Her own name startled her so suddenly that she almost dropped the wastebin of trash all over poor Kevin. She really had been zoning out if she couldn’t hear a pig running up to her from behind!

“Um, excuse me, I just…” She finished emptying the trash into Re-Tail’s dumpster. “Hi, Kevin! What did you need?”

“Need? Aw, nothing, I was just surprised to see you! You really should get out more, exercise is good for you, weeweewee!”

Isabelle laughed. Some people just had the strangest catchphrases sometimes. “Oh, I make time to weed around the town, water some flowers, you know.”

“Ah. gotcha. Well, take it easy!” Kevin began revving up for his evening jog again. He passed her by, and when the light in front of the recycling center couldn’t reach him, Isabelle turned her back and hefted her felt bag. She made for home, but not too quickly. 

Nights were nice. When she was little, her brother Digby had been scared of tarantulas around every tree. They sure were touchy, but that was no reason to be afraid of them, Isabelle thought. They were fuzzy, she was fuzzy. They just did their own thing, just like any animal did really… but it made Digby happier if she yelled and ran away with him, too.

(No one likes to be alone with how they feel.)

Just on the other side of the ridge, Main Street glowed. Isabelle turned back to the sleepy town behind her, leaves rustling in the hot wind blowing west-to-east. The fur of her ears flopped from one side to another.

She listened. No trains. There were even fewer people passing through lately. The schedule was changing, as attention turned elsewhere, away from █████.

“That’s okay,” Isabelle reminded herself.

A bright orange point grew so slightly larger up above, against a dazzling backdrop. Its warm, fiery light streaked across the sky in a cheerful arc, before it vanished from sight.

“Oh! I better make a wish…!”

Isabelle’s tail wagged. She had a good feeling. She turned onto the paved road to main street, walked in its blazing lights for only a little while until she reached the building on the end past Club LOL, where after taking the side entrance and ascending two flights of stairs, she arrived at the door of her studio apartment. She fumbled with her keys, tiptoed inside, and just after the door was locked again tossed her bag on top of a stack of aging cardboard boxes. She swapped her work outfit for an old, slightly stained _K.K. World Tour!_ shirt. Then, after spending some time face-down on her little bed, she got some cereal out of the cupboard and ate it with strawberry milk.

\--

Isabelle began her day at[ 5:00 AM](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQLvrhUXwtE), Sunday April 19th, 20�▯ like every morning she wasn't needed early. She used the restroom, did her stretches, and then showered. She dressed for morning chores, put her contacts in, packed her office clothes in her bag, and brushed her fur. She locked the door carefully on the way out, juggling a stick of jerky to the other paw when her key almost stuck in the lock. 

She yawned her way down the stairs and onto Main Street. She waved to Phyllis who was standing outside the post office with her cell phone. Even though Phyllis didn’t wave back, Isabelle smiled to herself and continued on her way. She knew what it was like to work the night shift, sometimes… Most of the time...

When Isabelle turned off the road and down to the village proper, she veered right immediately and picked up the wastebin she’d aired-out the night before.

“Weed patrol time,” she sighed to herself, and began her jog, a zigzag pattern that combed up and down the town to the beach from west to east, crossing bridges when she ran out of room. When she found a clump of weeds, she pounced on it and yanked and tugged until it popped out of the ground in a shower of soil, and she dropped it in her bin. When she came to a patch of eroded earth, Isabelle cautiously tested it with the shovel she had stashed to see if it was a pothole just waiting to open up, or a rock or fossil or gyroid or something else churned up by the earth.

When her bin was full and she’d swept the town top-to-bottom, it was after[ 6:00 AM](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWa-tiP3a_o) . She made it back to Re-Tail and dumped the weeds in the compost. On her way to the town hall, the first villagers were beginning to wake up—

Just as Isabelle walked by, Mitzi poked her head out of her house. “Good morning, █████ _~_!”

Isabelle froze, teetered on one paw, then once she had her footing managed a cheerful wave. Mitzi stared. Then hid her face in mortification.

“Aaah! So awkward! I’m sorry, Isabelle,” she apologized. “I hope I didn’t startle you…”

“Not at all,” Isabelle assured. “I’m happy you’re greeting the day with a great attitude!”

Mitzi rubbed her own ears bashfully. “Mew… to tell you the truth, I wanted to turn the morning around. I didn’t sleep very well last night, with all the noise.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe it’s a good day for a nap in the afternoon,” Isabelle mentioned. Then she shook herself out of small-talk mode. “Noise? What noise? Are Cherry and Peanut throwing wild parties again? Do you want me to speak to them?”

“Oh no, it wasn’t a person!” Mitzi said. “Or at least I hope so. I don’t know if a person could sound like that...”

Isabelle put the bin she was carrying back to the office down. It was heavy and her bag was slipping off her shoulder. “What kind of noise was it?”

“I don’t really remember, mew. This low pitched, _drrrrr_ , and then like _fwoosh,_ but whistling, sort of… screaming? Then a loud _boom!_ _Crash! Splash!_ ” Mitzi blushed. ”Hee hee, I guess I do remember.”

Isabelle didn’t know anything in town that would make a noise like that. Did a plane go down somewhere nearby? “Well… in case it’s important, do you know what way you heard the noise come from?”

“From all directions! I mean… it started out I think in the east, when it woke me up, and then it changed when it passed overhead and I think the end was in the west. I couldn’t sleep after that, I just started cleaning my whole house instead…”

“Well, be sure that everything is organized. I once tried to clean at 4 AM, and it was a nightmare,” Isabelle said. Then she remembered the time. “Oh! I better go. See you, Mitzi”

“See you around!”

As far as Isabelle remembered, Mitzi never had really stopped by the town hall. She was so nice and sweet she never had any problems with anyone, and with no mayor to pass ordinances…

Ah, she was spacing out again. She continued on her way, until she reached the town hall and unlocked it. The wastebin went back in its little corner, and she went into the bathroom to change clothes in a flash, fluffed some powder through her fur in case she was sweaty and tied her hair up for work. After washing her paws carefully, she came back into the main office and looked at her desk. It was just as barren as yesterday. Maybe, she thought, she should put in a computer here.

“That would just help you goof off,” she told herself. “Come on Isabelle, focus…”

Still, there wasn’t so much to do at the moment, and dusting the office _again_ felt a little silly.

Isabelle dug out the little sign she had made years ago, from the bottom of a cabinet. She placed it in front of her desk: “ _Sorry for the inconvenience! The secretary will be back as soon as possible.”_

She set out towards the beach to the south of town.

\--

█████ was bordered on two sides by the sea. Some of the oceanographic records gathering dust in the office pointed that there was a major current running from the west to the east, piling up sand on the beach to the south while scooping it out of the other beach. Someday, the town could have become a long skinny peninsula or even an island if someone was left to see it. Isabelle doubted anybody other than her, not even the former mayor Tortimer, had ever been bored enough to read that book.

(Retirement meant you didn’t have to think about that far in the future.)

If any poor pilot came down into the ocean, maybe scrap would have washed down to the south beach. But when Isabelle got there, it was clean save for seashells piling up where no one bothered to collect them. Isabelle skipped a sand dollar across the calm waters and continued combing the beach for any signs of life. Her paws left little prints in the sand as she trotted along, noticing that everyone was avoiding the sea for the day. The warm weather the night before hadn’t stuck at all and the spray was clammy in the wind.

Isabelle sat on a nearby stump to rest when she reached the other end of the beach on the northwest corner of █████. In the distance, the town clock chimed out[ 9:00 AM](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9ieUkNOEf4) . Really she had to get back to the office soon. She didn’t have a sign like _"The secretary will be out for hours and hours, please don’t wait."_

But she just sat on that stump and watched the waves roar, let the sound fill her fluffy ears. Her shadow stretched in front of her where the sun beat down, cutting through the cool wind and warming her fur. She doubted anyone would notice if she took her time on the way back to the office. For a few minutes. The few minutes turned into half an hour, where she did nothing, she saw no one, and no one saw her. So it was basically like the office, anyway…

“Don’t think like that!” she mumbled to herself, springing off the tree stump. “Of course what you do matters…!”

Just when she was ready to turn around and leave, a faint stream of bubbles on the surface of the roiling ocean came close enough to see. At first, Isabelle wondered if it was some kind of rare fish. But she stopped short of running all the way to the water’s edge when the dark shadow that the waves crashed around only grew larger as it approached the shore and the splashing it made couldn’t have come from any normal sea life. A sea _monster?_

[A helmeted human head surfaced.](https://youtu.be/HPZ5CxfuKqU) Then a pair of shoulders broad as a boat. The person kept emerging, and emerging from the surf until the biggest human being _ever_ was standing there on the beach, dragging seaweed and with at least one octopus clinging to their thick, tree-like leg.

Humans really could get _that large?_ The mayor was roughly her own size, she remembered. Maybe a little taller, not counting if her hair was up. Isabelle’s entire body came up only to the giant’s knee.

“Uh, hi!” Isabelle called out. “Welcome to █████!”


	2. CASTAWAY

**\--DOOMGUY--**

_I am not the villain in this story. I do what I do because there is no choice._

Spoken like a true jackass, a true rat shit waste of humanity. And it was exactly that which proved Samuel Hayden was human in all the ways that counted. Whatever parts of his brain they’d scooped out and put into the robot, they contained that stupid, stupid nerve that the worst kind of people fell back on.

If you had to insist you’re not the villain, you are.

If you have to say there’s no choice, there is.

The bastard could put anything in his mouth and he chooses hell’s balls. The thing worth defending in humanity, sometimes what felt like the only thing, was that choice: that will to believe in oneself and the work of real honest people. Hayden’s lies would look like pragmatism only to an asshole: profiteering Demons for power carved right out of human suffering.

Man, fuck that guy.

These were the thoughts of the man known as the Doom Slayer, the Hellwalker to many, and the denizens that lurked beyond earth and space had more names for him. But none of them mattered when he was hurtling through an atmosphere molten-hot, flung out of orbit by brimstone and lightning. The cooling of the Praetor Suit pushed to its limits. The suit’s bulk combined with his own, and the residual mass of his arsenal in subspace pushed terminal velocity to over 500 KpH.

The air was fresh. The man falling from the sky took the time to dump the respirator and refill it. The scent of hell meant nothing to him; to _miss_ it would bring it more respect than it deserved. Even as the wind scoured his suit clean he gulped the rare, sweet breaths that did not reek of sulphur, or the chemical sterility of a space station.

The ocean welcomed him to this unknown planet. Feet first, like any marine. Water vaporized on impact, and as he plunged into the depths it was immediately obvious this was… ordinary, earth-approximate seawater. So ordinary, in fact, it was impossible. Most of the Earths he had known were polluted to the extreme, filmed by oil waste and industrial runoff, a haze of microplastics and other particulate…

There were no answers as to where he was, how to crush Hayden like a can, at the bottom of an unknown ocean. He pushed off the seafloor and swam in the direction he liked best. Unless the entire planet was covered in water, his path would eventually break shore.

He swam.

He swam for hours, without rest or pause of any kind. A few meters ahead was a few meters closer to taking the Crucible back out of Hayden’s hands and shoving it… wherever was left to shove, and the Doom Slayer was overqualified by every metric to solve that problem.

Eventually, his faith was rewarded. The sandy bottom below (teeming with _fish! How long was it since he had seen real, living, wild fish?)_ drew upwards, and the water became murky with algae churned by the splash zone. With less water to support him, the Praetor Suit felt heavier and more cumbersome, until it was shallow enough to wade. The soft sand gave way around him as he exited the water, slowing him down until his footsteps cut deep into the beach. He stood, a castaway on what seemed like a beautiful and pristine woodland shore well-groomed of brush. The line of the trees was marred only by one or two old stumps where someone with _tools_ had cut a path. 

One of those someones had almost fallen off of a stump and shakily approached him. They were not human. But their threat was minimal.

“Uh, hi!” they said, in a voice that suited its tiny throat, and in _perfect familiar language_ . [ “Welcome to █████!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbUJ34kSQt4)”

It was a… dog.

He stepped around them and made for the wooded path.

“Hey! Excuse me! Please wait!” the creature insisted, scampering on their little legs with surprising speed to attempt to block the path. It would never have worked, but he had to admit that it took guts for such a tiny thing to stand in his way.

“Before you go any further, please let me show you around our town,” the creature said.

It continued when he did not move, in a worried tone. “I— I understand if you are very busy, and don’t want to waste your time. But I think it will waste more time to wander around without a tour.”

The little dog held firm and even if her tail drooped between her legs slightly, she (?) put on a brave face. Slowly, the Doom Slayer nodded. It was incredible how quickly her mood changed, and became so sunny that he almost felt his visor should darken for UV.

“Thank you so much! I’m Isabelle, by the way. I work at the town hall. What’s your name?”

This ‘Isabelle’ began to fluster when he did not answer. “Um… it’s okay if you don’t want to say. I don’t want to pry into your business. Sorry if this is another nosy question, but do you have any preferred title, like Dr., or Professor, or Mx, or maybe something more traditional like Mr.?” Her eyes lit up once more as she saw a single nod. “Mr. it is! It’s nice to meet you.”

She offered one paw out to him for a handshake. The Doom Slayer was nowhere near winded by the recent swim, but in that instant his knees felt rusted and his back creaked under the weight of this brazen civility. She grasped and shook one armored finger of his right hand. Then she giggled slightly to herself. 

“Let’s get all that seaweed off you first. Did you know we still have a train station you could have used? It's a little sleepy, but I promise it has all of the modern stuff...”

Isabelle led the armored man down the path, jogging three steps to every one of his. The little bell on her hair tie jingled with every step.

\--

The first destination the little dog had in mind was some sort of utility center. It was there that the distortion of scale on this world became obvious. Hell warped and twisted in impossible ways and it was useless to whine about that. But it never was folded in a _practical_ way, or even a _friendly_ way.

That was the only way to describe it. Isabelle was much smaller than him, and the buildings were scaled for beings of her size. But he could not shake the truth that if he wanted to enter this[ “Re-Tail”,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51Aom2AfHMk) he could. He would only have to hunch down under the door, despite that he never should have fit.

Space was ‘friendly’ here. It _wanted_ _to help him move through it_.

Isabelle did not ask him to test that uneasy feeling. She led him around the back of the building where there was an ordinary garden hose. A _tiny_ garden hose. She unrolled the tubing and turned the spigot to the maximum position. Then adjusted the pressure setting on the nozzle.

“Sorry, could you please hold still for a second? I hope you don’t mind a little more water…”

She aimed carefully with both of her paws. The jet of water was powerful enough to push her back slightly with recoil and prompt the unmistakable urge to dodge out of the way. But it was just water, sheeting harmlessly off of his armor. Isabelle held the trigger down and did not release it until all of the sea life had been scoured away.

“Phew! That has to be much better,” she said. “Just a minute, I think you’ll like this…!”

She hooked the hose on the side of the building and stuck her paws into the fallen detritus to pick three squirming, fleshy octopi from the pile, almost dropped one for how slippery it was, and then disappeared around the side of the building. She returned promptly with a canvas bag tied with a red cord. She held it up for him.

“Good news! Reese at Re-Tail was willing to buy what you had. Rare sea creatures like that are 1000 bells each.”

The sack of currency fit in the palm of his hand. It contained some small weight of coins. So, dogs in this world had currency. They would have commerce then, and debt, corruption, and profiteers. 

He pocketed the ‘bells’.


	3. WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE

**\--ISABELLE--**

Isabelle thought to herself as she commenced the tour: the new guy was very… well… strange!

All humans were strange, but aside from being a giant and never showing his face, there were more unusual things about him.

(It occurred to her that, actually, one former resident Kid Cat never took off their helmet either. So that wasn’t strange at all, just uncommon. And it _was_ rude to remark on someone else’s height or weight.)

The way he watched things was very strange, and Isabelle was sure he acted like she wouldn’t notice it. It was like he had never seen grass or trees or rivers before! He wasn’t at all like a tourist taking it in, though. He stared everything down, quickly going from one thing to another and not skipping over anything at all.

He did not need much of a tour, for example, because he decided where he was going as if there was a most efficient path to inspect the town. It wasn’t that different from her weed patrol in the morning, actually. Isabelle trotted at his heels, and when he stopped expectantly she said a few words. Then he was off at a relentless pace that kept her alert.

“Ah! Please be careful of the flowers,” she asked, panting to catch up. 

Mr. Human stopped. Then looked down at the ragged lily patch smashed under one wide boot. He made one precise step away from the mess and continued on, more carefully.

“Thank you,” Isabelle said. “I know they’re not always located in the most convenient places, but the Mayor never said to move them.”

They passed two houses side-by-side.

“Opal and Derwin live next to one another, but they’re not really friends,” Isabelle said. “I shouldn’t gossip, but they're too different to get along. I don’t know at all why they decided to build houses so close.”

Mr. Human either was not listening, or he did not care about that detail. Isabelle felt a little ashamed about the quality of her ‘tour.’ There wasn’t much to speak of, was there? Even the effort to preserve the flowers was a little foolish when so many had died or gone to seed. The Mayor had also planted many trees and cut down the same amount at random to leave stumps all over the place, and their paths were only deteriorating as the years went by. The town resembled a nature preserve with some long-suffering cottages at best! The town tune was a little… minimal, and the ratty old flag was definitely dated!

“I apologize, I can’t stop thinking about it,” Isabelle said. “I don’t want to cut this short, but there’s so much to be done around town. Even if the Mayor should be doing these things! I can’t just take all day off, it’s unprofessional.”

Isabelle almost smacked into Mr. Human and teetered at the last second to peer around the wall that was his body to see why he’d stopped so suddenly. The town plaza lay out before him, certainly less wide for him than for her. It was abandoned, even in the middle of the day. It was such a shame, too. Residents used to love coming here.

“Oh, you’re looking at the town tree?” Isabelle said. “The Mayor planted it when they came to town. I know it looks a little stunted… but it doesn’t do so well when the Mayor isn’t here.”

Isabelle expected it to be more than a few forked branches by now! The last one had done much better.

Mr. Human was pointing at her. His metal gloves were so thick and sturdy his fingers were almost stubby and claw-like. Isabelle felt nerves overtake her and she shivered. Something about him was a little frightening!

“What? Me? What am I supposed to do about it?” Isabelle said. “I’m just a secretary, I could never take on that kind of responsibility!”

The pointed finger transformed into a single, decisive _thumbs-down._

“Hey!” Isabelle took a deep breath, and then sighed. “I’m not very good with confrontation… How about we talk it out instead. Over coffee?”

For about a second, Isabelle worried that she was speaking an entirely different language than the human. That would make sense, why he wasn’t much of a _talker_. But what if he hadn’t understood anything, either? 

“The cafe’s right over there.” Isabelle tried hopefully.

Mr. Human looked over his shoulder. Then, without another word, began walking toward The Roost. It was a task to beat him there and open the door helpfully, even if he wasn’t hurrying at all. Something about him felt like he was holding back at all times, but it was hard to explain.

Just as she held the door for him, Isabelle noticed that there was no way he was going to fit through and held her breath, just waiting for the awkward struggle to close it and then offer to run inside and get takeaway cups.

But it didn’t make sense at all. Mr. Human somehow fit inside! He certainly had to bend down to avoid the ceiling, but it shouldn’t have worked because he _did seem_ much taller than a single story! But, as if the door was meant to fit people through, and he was a person, it somehow…

Isabelle shook her head. There was no use going crazy. Really, it was too much to pay attention to how tall anybody was, anyway! Things like that didn’t _matter_ in the long run. What mattered was what was on the _inside_! 

“[ Hi, Brewster ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F6e8uCT9KzY),” Isabelle said, sheepishly moving past Mr. Human’s legs to get to the counter. “Two coffees, please. I’ll pay.”

Brewster, who had been drying a saucer, looked up. And then more up, and _more_ up at the new guy. Then he turned his attention back to her, as if he understood.

“... Isabelle. It’s been a while,” he said. Which was a mouthful for him, but…

It was so obvious! The last time she ordered coffee was… basically never. He wasn’t a robot, he didn’t know her order!

“I’ve been so busy,” Isabelle excused herself. “May I please have a mocha latte? With lots of sugar and milk— oh! Sorry, I’ll let you work.”

Brewster hadn’t scolded her at all. He was staring at Mr. Human. Mr. Human stared down at Brewster. The atmosphere was so tense that Isabelle felt like she could scream.

“... Say no more,” Brewster muttered at last. Isabelle watched him pull out the largest size takeaway cup, so large that she didn’t even know anyone _carried_ that size. He turned around and adjusted the dial on his biggest coffee machine before emptying a bag that had no label into the filter at the top. She had her own drink long before it was finished brewing, and even longer while Brewster emptied more shots of espresso into the cup than she thought possible, as well as a scoop of ominous brown powder that was definitely not cocoa. 

When the coffee machine finally buzzed, she could smell melting plastic. Brewster lifted the pot with a tea towel wrapped around the handle and poured the entire contents into that one cup. It was thick like syrup, and pure black. Brewster did not touch the cup after sealing the lid on.

“Hot as Hell,” the pigeon said. “On the house.”

\--

It was a little too cramped to have coffee in the cafe itself, but they sat and drank at the foot of the town tree outside. Isabelle, blowing on it and accidentally burning her tongue before it went down right. Mr. Human opened some intake in his special suit and dumped the superheated brew right down the hatch. Isabelle couldn’t exactly tell how she knew, but he did seem to enjoy it.

They talked. Or, Isabelle soon realized, she would be talking to him. And after the first few sputtering explanations for her behavior she bit her lip and thought to herself that this was nobody who enjoyed excuses. She summed up instead:

“I have to think about my duties to this town a little more. When the old mayor retired, a new one came in only the next day. Now, we don’t know if they’ll ever come back. They really were the heart of this town... but I think that you’re right! If my job is to help, waiting for someone else and just pulling weeds sometimes doesn’t help anybody at all.”

For someone so restless, Mr. Human was a good listener.

“So… even if it’s challenging, starting today, I will try even harder! I need to take initiative! And when the Mayor gets back, they’ll be so happy to see █████ again!”

After having no one around to listen to, it was nice to just… talk to someone else who would listen. The town hall[ chimed out noon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZVS2FtVWHA) in the distance. Isabelle almost jumped up from where she was sitting.

“I lost track of time! Thank you for your patience this morning. I hope you understand our town a little better,” she said. “But, is there anything else I can help you with?”

He stared down at her.

“I feel like you didn’t _mean_ to swim to our town in particular,” she said hastily. “I was going to show you Main Street, but… would you like to see the train station? Maybe you can catch a train to where you should be going.”

That _did_ seem to interest Mr. Human. He took off at a surprisingly fast jog as soon as Isabelle began walking, a beeline to [ the train station](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6l0J6nogPr4). By the time she caught up, huffing, the giant human was already inside, hunching over the train schedule.

“I think we can wait for the one at 12:21,” Isabelle wheezed. But that was the least of Mr. Human’s worries. He was pouring line by tiny line over each stop, gripping the edge of the schedule board so tightly she saw splinters cracking through the edge. 

“Isabelle, do you know this man?” Porter squeaked, about ready to climb over the barrier and scamper on top of the building to escape.

“Yes, we just met today. He came in by the beach,” she said.

“He’s a little… tall for Kapp’n’s motorboat,” Porter said.

Isabelle ignored that. Porter would cope if he didn’t want to be rude. Mr. Human was much more important to worry about. He seemed a little upset. “Mr., is the place you’re trying to go… is it not on there? Not even on a connection?”

That was when his fist released the crumpled edge of the schedule board, drew back, and with one punch smashed the wood to smithereens. Porter yelled and abandoned his post as Mr. Human stepped over the turnstile entirely and set off at a pounding run along the train tracks.

Soon, he was gone, whoever he really was. Isabelle winced at the damage around her. It was only one broken sign, but…

“New, proactive goal #1… find funds for a new train schedule,” she muttered to herself. After apologizing to Porter, she walked back to the plaza with mixed feelings. It was hard to be assertive when the inspiration for it asserted itself all the way out of town.

She picked up the coffee cups— one ordinary, one extra extra large— left behind near the stunted, withering town tree and began to look for a trash can.


	4. COMING AROUND

**\--DOOMGUY--**

The Doom Slayer [ finally slowed to a halt 27 days later ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYHIpx8RVmk). After traveling over 40,000 kilometers in roughly a straight line, with detours to investigate anything of interest, and only minor resistance crossing an ocean or two, he passed through a tunnel and arrived at a train stop for the town of █████. 

He had circumnavigated this entire world. Everywhere was so similar to this barely ten-bedroom hamlet. The few ‘cities’ focused on providing goods and services for trade, all useless to him. Abandoned towns stood immune to ruin, but choked by weeds. There were endless roads between wildernesses and campsites for carefree travelers. And deserted valleys pristine of civilization. There was one ‘university’ in his path, and the entire zoo emptied in fright at his approach. At the end of it, there was no research of Argent energy. The only 'worlds' any of them traveled to were those of dreams. The occult was minimal, and dealt not with Demons or Hell. The only being to speak the name of Hell had been the pigeon a month ago back where he began. 

(Fuck, that was good coffee. Even something like him could admit it.)

And here he was. Back where he began. There was no place more helpful than this place. There was no point to leaving. And there was nothing here.

Did Samuel Hayden intend this dimension to be his prison? Hell could never hold him. But a world where no sickly-sweet inhabitant deserved… what was inside him, the desire to rip a hole out of paradise and _tear a way back down into the inferno_ …!

The monkey at the turnstile took one look at him and ran, squeaking.

No. This was a far better prison than any Hell. No amount of struggling would deface it enough to draw the attention of the ones who _deserved_ his wrath. And, for all that the fainthearted fled before him, it was grotesque to imagine rending the soft bodies of these tiny natives. It would be like shredding stuffed animals, and the survivors would look upon him and see only another demon from Hell—

He clenched his fist. The Praetor suit detected a spike in his vitals. It was much easier to imagine demons when they were _right there_ and he could _act_ upon just what he thought of them.

‘Thinking’ went on for too long without an immediate catharsis. He emerged from the train station. There was a green elephant outside, though by that point this was not surprising. The elephant, though, did react with surprise.

"Oh my! It's _you_ ," said the elephant. "You certainly have a lot of nerve to show your face around here, snoot!"

That had to be the most pathetic insult any creature of any size had hurled at him, for all insults the Doom Slayer had heard in all languages of Earth, Hell, and of countless times and outer planes. Only, it was not spoken as if it was an insult... but as if the creature was a parrot repeating its favorite garbled noises at the end of whatever it screamed.

Of all the thoughts to be running circles around the mind, "an elephant compared to a parrot" was the real insult.

"Nothing to say? That's fine," scolded the elephant. "I'll just have you know, Mr. Man, ever since your little outburst, our Isabelle has been beside herself!"

There was no particular point thinking about exactly _what_ these carefree natives would worry about, for they were too eager to tell him. In that way, they were no different from any amount of mouthpieces he had endured over the years.

"—and it didn't stop with the train schedule you brutally murdered, of course not! Then she put her mind to funding the bridge, and now that reset center! Our sweet little angel, taking pity on that rough customer Resetti— but the fuss, snoot! We simply haven't known rest— oof!"

The green elephant staggered as one armored palm grasped the curve of their head, lifted, and set them aside. The Doom Slayer trudged over the grassy terrain, level with the compact trees. It did not take long at all for him to reach the town hall, where he had been shown Isabelle spent her days.

And how unfamiliar it was, for this world to be so straightforward. No circle talk of men who helped only so long as he was security against their sins. The river was not wide enough to even merit use of his thrust boots. There were no keys to chase after, no doors to pry open, no twisting landscape set to defy him at all. His path was as simple as the straight line he had torn around the world, and like that path terminated in no more than what was there.

A precious-looking civic building, but no Isabelle. A lovingly drawn signboard posted in front declared,

> _Town fundraising drive!_
> 
> _Bridge Fund — 128,000 Bells COMPLETE! _
> 
> _Reset Center Reopening — 386,000 Bells! KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK! _

A second, smaller sign was pasted to the locked doors.

> _Due to low demand, secretary hours and responsibilities have adjusted. Please leave town hall mail, requests for official forms, ordinances, and community service in the mailbox provided for a response within 1-2 business days. Thank you for your cooperation!_

A tiny pad of stationary and a golf pencil were clipped to the bulletin. The Doom Slayer took the instrument between two fingers and for a moment an eeriness ran through him, the possibility if after eons he had _forgotten how to write, a shred of humanity that no longer served any purpose — _

It didn't matter, anyway. The point of the pencil promptly broke under his grip. He ripped the defaced paper off of the front of the pad and shoved the whole mess in his personal storage to destroy the evidence.

The Doom Slayer stalked the forests covering █████, seeking the only being to welcome him in their realm in an immortal's age.

\--

Isabelle could be found scouring the southern beach of sea-shells until the bone-white sands were picked clean. The Doom Slayer observed her for several minutes before approaching, and she took no notice of even his great form. She focused on her task until he was almost on top of her.

"Hi! I didn't know you came back," the little dog greeted him. "So... did you find where you were looking for?"

The Doom Slayer shook his head, which bubbled with resentment— not for Isabelle, but for an endless reality where arrogant pricks spoke at him, and spoke of him, with no consideration for anyone but themselves and the use or hatred of the pawn they believed he was. Vega, and a shih tzu! Those were all the decent people the universe threw at him.

"What? That's too bad," Isabelle replied. "Well, just don't give up, and little by little I'm sure we'll figure it out."

Her innocence of exactly how long he had persisted in his goals was... endearing.

"Is there anything I can do to help that right now?"

And her innocence of exactly what he sought was... more unfortunate than anything else.

Her tail drooped as she saw his helm shake once for 'no.' "Oh, ok. If you need anything just let me know." Then an idea seemed to hit her. "Well, I know you don’t _live_ here, and I don’t want to impose, but… maybe if you’d like you could tag along while I work on the fundraiser. You don't have to! I just think it might be, um, more fun with company?"

Fun.

The concept fell upon him like a raindrop in Hell.


	5. CATCHING ON

**\--ISABELLE--**

Mr. Human did not look like he had patience for any kind of long explanation, but to Isabelle the intensity of his attention was a little embarrassing. In some ways, her job contained so many things she _had_ to say just to help some process go through, or to obtain a clear request of a villager, or the mayor. Sometimes, it was easy to imagine that no one was really listening to her. There were just replies they made that navigated what they wanted done around town, and that was that.

Mr. Human though... she could almost feel how hard he was listening to her, picking apart her words, considering them as if he had never had to talk to a secretary before, ever. But, just because he made her feel like a real person, that didn't mean it was all right to babble on and waste his time!

"Since you left, I started my fundraising drive. They don't need me at the desk _all_ the time, so I have been working to raise bells to improve our town and some civic planning to make it a nicer place for everyone," Isabelle said. "Over time I'm sure it will be worth it. Re-Tail takes seashells for various amounts, but I've just started the other stuff."

The human gave no response as to his preference. But really if he didn't want to help he could easily leave and she couldn't do anything to stop him.

"When the mayor was here, they had a routine for making Bells every day. Now that we have all the seashells, I think they moved on to fishing?"

Isabelle rummaged around in her stash for the spare rod that she kept— in case the mayor had trouble and lost theirs, maybe— when [ a loud sound](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xu_pOlBP2Rk) split the sky. When she finally stopped cringing and her ears stopped ringing, half of a large sea bass was at her feet, washed ashore by the lapping waves. The rest was only a cloud of gore that the ocean soon would whisk away.

The human far above her reloaded a _big, real, deadly gun_ with total efficiency.

Mr. Human might be a problem, Isabelle realized. But there were problems with that realization, too.

First, _she_ was in charge of making sure every resident of █████ behaved themselves. Of course, everyone was good at heart, but every so often it was possible that a resident could learn some rude words or be given clothing that was not very nice to wear. They wouldn’t know the ways of humans, but Isabelle considered it her job to understand what was appropriate for her little town. And guns— real guns, that could hurt someone very badly— were not. 

But there was no _law, exactly_ , against them. There was no _such object_ as a _real gun_ one could handle and hold in their paws. Isabelle knew of the concept only because she had to understand such difficult things, for the sake of her position. _Real guns_ were so unheard-of in her world outside of art or made-up stories that it was almost as ridiculous as outlawing magic, or superhero powers.

And, as she picked up the destroyed fish carcass and put it away to recycle later, Isabelle considered there was something wrong underneath that, too. It was obviously OK to be afraid of tools that could hurt so badly or even kill… but the attitude behind throwing everything and _everyone_ with the potential to harm out of █████ felt… evil, somehow. Sure, the world would be peaceful, but it would be a tyrannical kind of peace, a peace that sat smug that everyone was weaker than you, and could never hurt you even if they tried. It was a peace where there was no trust or fellowship, because it was subjugation.

Isabelle suggested, “You know, Blathers at the museum has an aquatic exhibit. I think we should take them alive, just in case he can add them to the collection?”

Mr. Human considered this. Then, he put away the shotgun and took her fishing rod (which was much too small for him, almost like a wand rather than a rod) and cast it out further than she had ever seen anyone throw. And waited.

Isabelle wondered if she had to tell him to be patient, with how harsh the anticipation simmered in his posture, or to be careful not to mistake a nibble for a bite. But before she could manage a suggestion, he tore _an absolutely enormous shark_ free of the water as if it weighed nothing at all.

\--

Blathers did enjoy all the sea life they brought in together as well as Mr. Human’s silence to listen. And he did not question the logistics of what Reese did with live sharks out of season.

[ “Later, ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXG9zU2Lb6g) the mayor would go around shaking trees,” Isabelle related. “Sometimes, bells are hidden in the leaves. Don’t ask me how!”

Maybe, she thought, that was why the Mayor planted so many trees. But however the bells hid in there, no more would be discovered just because there were more hiding places. It would only make it harder to find the prizes! Isabelle approached one of the town's hardwood trees and planted two paws on the bark. She exhaled, inhaled, and then shook as hard as she had to. A coin fell from one of the top branches, that she soon swept into her pockets.

Mr. Human watched her ardently for only half a minute. Was it possible to be both patient and impatient at the same time? He approached a tree, which seemed smaller next to him and lashed out with one hand. The trunk cracked and it fell backward with a splintering sound. Isabelle took deep breaths and remained calm, moved on to the next tree and shook. He would understand how things went here eventually.

After the third capsized tree, Isabelle could hear his fist clench so hard the plates of his special suit scraped against each other. The next time, he reached out with a furious restraint and bent it twenty degrees backwards. The wood creaked. With a shudder he released the tension, showering leaves and a shiny bell coin down to the grass below.

Truth be told, there were too many trees anyway so losing a few didn't really matter.

"Nice job! Only a few more left to find," she positively reinforced, shaking her own tree.[ Something in the upper branches came loose and smashed to the ground at her feet in an angry, buzzing cloud.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JtU9R8vEeWY)

"Oh no! Bees!" had barely escaped Isabelle's throat on autopilot before an armored hand snatched through the air and caught the majority of the swarm by surprise. Crushed inside an iron fist, the insects were nothing more than a smeared paste. Isabelle did not feel a single sting on her, but was hit by the wake of such a huge person moving so quickly. Her fur floofed up with the air he'd displaced.

Just when she thought it was over, and she was in the middle of stammering "Thanks," Mr. Human took a step out of her personal space and accidentally disturbed one of the other trees, planted much too close nearby. The most rotten luck imaginable must have put two beehives right next to one another, because far above her head something went _splat_ all over Mr. Human's helm. The guy jerked away on instinct, but by then the bees had locked on to their target—

— and this time, Isabelle was ready, with a net out. The angry insects circled, and she intercepted them with a good _swish._ The swarm dispersed.

Mr. Human stared down at her as she wrestled with what she'd netted. "Yes! I caught a bee!"

He continued to stare as she calmly put it in her pocket, where it was harmless.

\--

Something about the way Mr. Human walked had changed[ after the bees](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLSwc8wgJeo) . Now, Isabelle did not want to guess if it was some kind of cultural difference where he came from, that being attacked by bees was a friendly activity. The tension in the way he stood had lessened, maybe. The guy didn't ever seem _at ease._ But whatever he had learned, it had helped somehow.

It made sense to channel the guy's destructive ability, and he wasn't mad at all at the suggestion. It felt a little embarrassing to impose, and at no point did it feel like he was obeying her suggestions as much as participating in the same activities she was. When she pulled out an ax and went over her plans to thin the tree cover a bit, he produced a chainsaw and leveled a dozen trunks in a minute. He ripped the stumps out with his bare hands.

Well, whatever would get the job done! Sunlight reached the choked earth for the first time in years.

That chore was done so early that there was time to go around rescuing all of the scattered flowers. Mr. Human needed no instruction, which surprised Isabelle greatly when she found he had gone ahead and moved so many into efficient paths. Now, hopefully people would walk between them instead of cutting the corners and wearing down the grass.

It was nice to have someone that shared initiative around. When the mayor was here, he would be outside all the time taking care of it, and she would be indoors, working, waiting...

[ Night soon fell ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhrsQO9Pkbs), and it was only polite to say good-bye to take care of office work. Maybe an official letter to Nook's Homes so he could have a proper place to stay in the meantime. But, even as she was signing the legal clauses at the end she could not shake the impression that between them... it didn't really matter. What did someone like that need with a real home? She barely needed one herself.

Paperwork was futile after that. She locked up, and in the dark trotted up to main street. Her feet ignored the impulse to go home. They brought her to Club LOL in the building below.

She should be so tired, she thought. And she was. _But she could not rest. Never, never —_

Derwin, Cherry, and Peanut were all out late tonight, dancing on the floor. It was such a shame that the mayor was missing all of this fun, that it would go unmaintained without him, and—

the DJ above put on[ KK Metal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RdLdkIzCvgI&t=416s) , which she had never considered her favorite before, but there were bees in her body, thrashing around, her heart fluttering as hard as it could to escape—

The next she was aware, it was[ 2:15 AM](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAioanQMG_A) and the club was closed and her fur was matted with sweat. In the back of her mind, the fundraising goal burned like a brand and she scolded herself for wasting time at night. But it all crawled forward so _torturously slow, for years, for so long she could not stand to go back to the office, the club was closed and she was not done lashing out, there was nowhere to go now but the calm and the still of night trapped in this dead-end town no one would return to!_

Isabelle found herself at her brother's place, the Happy Home Showcase. Digby must have had rooms here. He would understand. They had to talk. Between them, he was the one who had it all figured out, he was the one who loved arranging and organizing and could put the feelings she had in the right place. They had to talk _now._

She leaned forward and trudged up the dark stone steps to the Happy Home Plaza. Her paw felt like it caught every rough brick or uneven edge while she searched for her brother among the model homes.

But Digby wasn't to be found. In fact, all of the model homes were not only silent and dormant, but boarded up. No one had come by in quite some time.


	6. A SHIT ZOO

**\--DOOMGUY--**

The Doom Slayer[ awoke](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBYPm3a0VmI) of his own choosing. True rest was unheard of in millennia, and unnecessary for him, but not unwelcome. He had by now scoured every step of █████ , and could be sure there was no threat to be found. His surroundings were no trick, or false sense of security that he could discern— and if they were, his vengeance would be so brutal that the mere threat of it would make any planar force hesitate.

And so he had sat with his back against a sea cliff to close his eyes for a few minutes at a time, until he was certain there was no proximity movement but the waves. Then he slept and that way cheated Hell of its cowardly hubris, the cry of the defeated that in his infinite crusade his torture too would be infinite.

Demons would make any excuse as to why their loss actually was victory, why subjugation was freedom, why any subversion was actually a sacrifice to their altars.

The morning broke over █████. The Doom Slayer, while set in his goals, could not deny the effect of the waves and their white noise, and the stillness of the air. He had... rested. And, while he had feared his rage would diminish if not in motion, there was no difference within him that he could notice. It was only then the truth became clear. He _could notice_.

It took a remote prison full of tiny animal people to clear his mind. And in that clarity, there was no reason to panic anymore. He had eternity to escape, and even longer to slay his quarry once again.

There was a reason why the nerve was called one's temper. Losing it was to become brittle, and to shatter when struck. A sudden rest was like a quench of hot steel too long baked by hellfire. Overdue, but necessary to reinforce a blade that cuts. Necessary to hone and protect his mind. He ventured out into █████.

He had a taste for that coffee, again. That was what... people... did in the morning. 

But approaching the plaza, he could see from afar[ a strange gathering of animals](https://voca.ro/fTiJyKdb26C). They could not see him over their bent horizon, behind the trees he was level to. And they did not have any technology as sophisticated as the Praetor suit, which had protected him from deafening noises before. It could raise its sensitivity to sound...

"I’m flabbergasted, Nook. I would expect a day's warning at least before assembling us in this manner."

Gathered at the town's crooked tree was Isabelle, a racoon-dog, an owl, a mole, and a turtle. The owl, introduced to him by Isabelle as Blathers, had just spoken.

"It's important, gentlemen— and lady, sorry. Sometimes I forget how young you really are, Isabelle," said the raccoon-dog, who was Nook.

"No offense taken," Isabelle said. Her tail twitched. "Tortimer, how is retirement treating you?"

The turtle spoke. "Oh, much better than sitting in that office did, for sure. Be sure you don't overdo it!"

Isabelle behaved bashfully, but said nothing.

"Get to it! I'm not on the clock, but this is still an emergency," said the mole in an aggressive accent. 

"Right," said Nook. "Listen. I'm not going to beat around the bush. We are in the EOL phase, folks. This isn't a drill."

"W-what do you mean, EOL...?" Isabelle asked.

[ "End of lifetime ](https://voca.ro/3jrHdFKMnNF), miss," said the mole. "It happens. After that point, the trains don't work no more...humans can’t travel no more... resets don't change things back to the way they were before. Got it?"

"I... I'm not sure," Isabelle said.

"Ah, to be youthful again," said Blathers. "The phenomenon is fascinating, actually. It will be formative, your first time experiencing it— this town is one of many, in our world, that cooperates with humans. Sadly, though, nothing can last forever, and the means by which humans are able to willingly access our little town from outside will wane over time. We cannot control their species, you know! And so we, too, will wane as the law of entropy asserts itself—"

"Blathers, don't upset the girl with your blibber-blabber," said the turtle. "It will be all right, Isabelle. The trains will just be closing down. We always pull through and set up again, between us. It’s only an end to towns like █████. "

"The— the end?!" Isabelle stifled a bark. "Y...you can't be serious! Everybody will just be GONE? █████ won't be rebuilt?!"

"Hey, hey, take it easy," said the mole. "Sorry if Blathers confused ya. But it'll just be like... things lose energy over time, right? Hot things cool off. Echoes fade. And we'll just stay right here, and stay right here, nothing happens, until we just don't have the energy to go on no more. We'll be the same as the rest of the big ol' soup floating around in space."

Nook sighed. "Isabelle isn't wrong," he said. "Over time, we will disappear as there is no reason or energy for us to exist anymore. A terrible return on investment, honestly. It’s already begun."

"Oh no," Isabelle said, shaking. "Poor Digby..."

"I'm truly sorry. But it's a natural process," said Blathers. "It is just the same how my dear Celeste does not truly exist until a human's efforts justify her appearance, but in reverse. In fact, I regret that our mayor this time applied themselves just enough to see her, for she'll have to go through the upsetting ordeal of disappearing herself, soon."

"There has to be something we can do," Isabelle said. "Anything!"

Tortimer scratched his bald head nodding above his shell. "You know, I have gone through quite a few of these periods. And let me tell you, they weren't as big a fuss back in my day. Things weren’t so advanced. Other humans never used to pass through from outside, there was only the resident, and the town would always greet them if they returned."

"Then, when the mayor comes back, we'll be okay? █████ will go back to normal?"

"Trains ‘aint gonna run again," said the mole, "But as long as the mayor is here, yeah, we're here."

Nook interrupted. "Isabelle, I don't know how to say this gently," said Nook. "But... Tortimer and I, we've seen humans come and go. It's been so long now, I'm sure our mayor has forgotten about █████. They do not need us to survive, even if we need them. A mortal human being will eventually leave us forever. There is nothing you can do."

Isabelle whined, in her tiny dog voice.

"But," Nook continued. "[ There is a way, maybe ](https://voca.ro/lVzrNXULoic)..."

"What is it?! Please, we don't have much time!" Isabelle whimpered with nerves.

"I noticed your new friend in town. He's a human, isn't he? I don't know how he came here, not through any way I understand... but if he became the mayor, well... he can't leave the towns the way the current mayor did, now can he?"

"I don't think he would agree to that," said Isabelle.

"But does he _have_ to know? He'll be here anyway. What's a little tree planting ceremony, even? A little flattery, [ put a little bit of heart into it](https://voca.ro/1xT1S4fmjSR) , and bam— he's the new mayor, and █████ _never ends."_

It was only through an epic effort of self-control the Doom Slayer forced his body to remain still and bide his time, to not replace the raccoon-dog with a smoking crater. Isabelle's posture changed, stiff and unlike the innocent little creature he had met on the beach.

"Nook, I respect you and your seniority, but that is the worst idea I have ever heard," she said, snarling with every word. "How could you suggest something so... awful?! Look me in the eyes and tell me how you could betray our poor mayor, who planted this tree... sure, they may have not done the best job, but you can't just rip it out!"

"Do you really think that the second tree they planted sustained us for so long, Isabelle? Has that half-hearted vow really been what's kept you at work all these years?"

"Stop! I can't allow you to deceive our new friend so selfishly. Our mayor chose to come here willingly— he didn't! Our mayor could leave willingly— he can't! What you are suggesting is like slavery... no, worse than slavery! It would make him our livestock. He is a person, with real feelings that matter! I won't allow it!"

When she realized she had shouted, she hid her face in her paws in embarrassment. Her little nose peeked out as the gathering was stunned into silence.

At last, Nook replied. "Yes, yes, that's exactly why you're here, Isabelle. Not even I could buy you out, it seems."

The owl practically glowed with pride. "Your loyalty and compassion truly have no limit. Not one of us old men is more fit to guard the Garden."

"Standin' up to Nook like that," said the mole. "You're tougher than ya look. Just remember that if anything gets in your way, you just LET 'EM HAVE IT!"

“Isabelle,” said Tortimer. “This town turned over a new leaf with you. You’ll know what to do.”

The Doom Slayer knew, as well. Isabelle may have taken a side against forces she knew nothing of, but there was still reason to scour this place for further secrets.


	7. Y.O.L.O.

**\--ISABELLE--**

Mr. Human did not run and find Isabelle early, and for that she was thankful, but not completely. Knowing the situation more clearly had a certain effect on her idea of work-life balance. In uncertain times, it was important to act decisively. She had plenty of time to complete some chores and sell the spoils to Reese and decompress into[ what should have been a lazy afternoon](https://voca.ro/ac22hUJQAI7).

The light in the sky felt like a giant egg timer, straining against a spring until finally.... Brrinnngg!

“Oh! Hi! What have you been up to?” she asked of the giant man, when he came to find her. He said nothing. Of course he didn’t.

“I just finished up most of the work for the day… we’re almost a quarter of the way to opening the Reset Center. Thank you for all your help with it before.”

He gestured in his taciturn way to the shovel Isabelle held in her paws.

“I’m looking for any fossils I missed. They’re sneaky, you know… always behind buildings, or by cliffs… But I really shouldn’t ramble. Oh, there’s still so much to do—”

She was already shaking when Mr. Human snatched her up effortlessly. Then he switched to a grip between both iron palms, superdense and immovable against her. She was only a little toy in his hands. The immense power of what he was physically capable of caused her tail to go limp. Her eyes pinched shut.

He didn’t do… anything. Through the contact Isabelle could feel the smallest twitch of his body, somewhere underneath that metal. Somewhere in there, he breathed. His arms moved so slightly, compensating for it. His hands were perfectly steady; they had to be used to aiming with the dangerous weapon he carried.

An electric shock ran down her spine. Her breathing slowed, matching his own. Breathe in… breathe out....

She could see herself in his darkened visor. She wasn’t trembling anymore. She didn’t even look frightened. Not of anything. Not really. 

Not even of the end of █████...

Mr. Human put Isabelle down after a minute, when she guessed he had calmed her. She didn’t feel calm. But she didn’t feel manic either. All the bees buzzing inside her head, swarming chaos to escape had unified. All flowing in one direction. If only she knew which way to go, she felt sure she would reach her goal.

“Thanks,” Isabelle said, at a loss for what had passed between them. He nodded high above, and that was enough of a response.

“I think we should go have some fun,” she said.

\--

Isabelle lay down on the clean, fresh grass a couple of hours, sand castles, tea parties, hide-and-seeks, treasure hunts later. 

“I’m not really shirking work, you know,” she said. “[ My most important job ](https://vocaroo.com/2xYCH9CfyN6) is actually to stay on duty. It would be terrible if the mayor returned and there was nobody to get the town ready.”

Mr. Human was probably leaving a giant crater in the grass, crushing it. It didn’t really matter anymore. The grass was lush and green for how little any human had stood on this soil. In a way, everything depended on the Mayor now. If they returned, then the disappearance of everything would be put off a little while longer. The clouds drifted by in the sky overhead. Each one was bright white, plush, and uniquely shaped. █████ was trying so hard, before the end, to be a good home for everyone. If only the mayor could see it!

Isabelle wondered if they would like her new friend.

One long, armored arm jutted out at the sky. Mr. Human was pointing toward a cloud that split apart at the top, above a wedge face. His fingers curled into a pantomime of two ears, and he hopped it across the sky.

“It’s a cute bunny! I see it too,” Isabelle said. Then she waved out with her paw. “That one looks a little scary, like a monster— don’t you think?”

The six bulging legs distorted in the sky as the wind pushed it along. The cloud began to flatten out, looking wider by the second. “Oh no, hee hee, it’s getting closer!”

A red balloon floated into vision up above, pushed by a breeze. Through the ground, Isabelle could feel Mr. Human’s body twitch alert. He was focusing intently on it.

“It’s okay. It’s just a balloon,” Isabelle assured. “I don’t really know who sends them, but they blow over our town all the time. If you hit one, you’ll get a prize!”

Isabelle knew Mr. Human could move very quickly, but it was always a big surprise exactly how quickly. He was on his feet and wielding some kind of huge, glowing cannon. It took a moment to charge up with power, and then the blast pushed even someone as strong as Mr. Human back a bit.

The balloon way up there popped. It had nothing else it could do. She didn’t say anything judgmental while brushing the grass off herself as she got up. After, she trotted over to see if there was actually anything left. By the time she got there he’d already stashed his weapon.

Mr. Human tore the lid off of the little gift box (which had survived!) savagely and dumped out whatever was inside into his empty palm.

It was a little balloon animal, a malleable skin stretched tightly over the vital stuff of her world. Twisted into knots, tied together into itself, until it formed the crude shape of a dog. Isabelle stared into where its eyes could have been and tucked her own tail.

“Um, this is a strange request, but,” she said, “Could you show me how… to shoot a gun?”


	8. A SHOT IN THE DARK

**\--DOOMGUY--**

What could such a small creature want with that knowledge? And to request so innocently—so frankly— without any indication of ulterior motive, was another anomaly. He knew eons of being told what he was by everything he came across, demon, argent, man, angel or wraith. For someone to instead _ask_ what he knew _, it had never once occurred_. 

The Doom Slayer cut three trees at the far north of Isabelle’s little town. They roughly aligned. Behind them was nothing but cliff and dead rock. [ She watched him measure out the range with steady paces.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fpU7BGKH8A) Instinct for him would be unknown to her.

He placed three red apples on the stumps before Isabelle for plinking. Short targets, but there would be time to understand how her size would impact tactics after she had proven herself. If she had ability at all. It was very easy to imagine that the inhabitants of this idyllic world might have alien brains completely ignorant of violence— or could lack the capacity to inflict it.

When he had crossed the crude range, the Doom Slayer selected first what he considered appropriate for her size: a seldom-used EMG pistol. He knelt down on the ground to get low enough to show her the correct grip, even though it was hopeless with her little blunt paws. There was no one to observe trigger discipline in Hell, but the Devil would laugh if anyone under his watch shot themselves because of one negligent finger.

Isabelle took the pistol with great care. It was almost rifle-sized to her. She had the sense to know where to point the muzzle, at least. Somehow, she was capable of holding it despite that it was _wrong_ for her hands. Seeing an object not of her world in her grip was surreal: the light was too harsh off of it, the weight too heavy, the geometry too intricate and _real_ to ever intersect with her.

“Aw, this one doesn’t shoot real bullets,” Isabelle said with faint disappointment, as she realized there was no chamber.

And yet…

A warmth played over him— not a heat, not a hellish or frenzied mind— and behind the Praetor Suit’s impenetrable armor he could feel his lips twitch upward, in a way that almost hurt. But he had endured hurt, so much hurt that it was impossible to compare it to _pain._

She was right. This was a disappointing gun that did not shoot real bullets. 

He showed her to align her sights. Her tiny body was almost simplified in nature, a suggestion of arms and legs and torso more than anything else. Just enough to be pleasant: the opposite intention to Hell, which gnarled and accreted limbs, meat, and skeleton across its denizens without any reason or welcomeness at all. Having held Isabelle in his hands where so much flesh had been torn, he doubted there were any physical organs or bones inside.

Her grip on a pistol, too, defied ordinary biology’s limits. It was still not proportional to her, but at least manageable. He saw her aim carefully, and when instructed she correctly _squeezed_ the trigger when she fired.

Her shot missed, to the right and above the 12-o-clock target. She blushed. “S-sorry! I can be a little clumsy.”

Was everything in her little world so effortless that it was shameful not to display mastery on the first try? Were there no true challenges in this place, that was so abiding to even him?

No wonder Isabelle was withering here, under the weight of █████.

“Maybe I need my glasses,” Isabelle muttered, and aimed a second time. Her shot was closer, but she was still anticipating too much recoil. She aimed a third time, and it was interesting to watch how the gun defied physics in her hands, as if it had forgotten she was much too light and weak for anything of his own. It _behaved_ for her, much the same way every door and object and living thing _behaved_ for him in this world. Or else Isabelle was able to exert her will unto the gun somehow.

Her third shot struck true, dead in the center of the target. Applesauce.

“I—I did it!” she yelped, as if she was surprised she’d paid attention, identified and corrected her own mistakes. As if this minor accomplishment was not his to repeat untold billions of times, the lifespan of the entire human race lesser in comparison to the sum of all moments the Doom Slayer had pulled a trigger and hit his target.

Isabelle probably did not feel this way about his fucking around. He cast out a fishing line and produced man-eating sharks. He excelled only clear-cutting her precious forest, and catching butterflies was not anything he had tried before this very day. Even something so simple as being aware of flowerbeds was not obvious to him. Her patience when she was not depending on him to _remove any of her real problems_ was,

Appreciated.

She fired again, and missed once, and then clipped the apple at eleven-o-clock. Glancing EMG discharge was more than enough to blow it off its perch and hurl it away into the dirt. Her noises of glee applauding this activity consuming his infinite life sat uncertain upon his shoulders. Feather-weight, but out of his control. How often was it that a man saw what the universe considered his life’s ultimate purpose laid plain as _a practice_ ? Where it had him as its timeless master it too had its novice who _chose_ to begin. It was easier, always easier to take an absolute path and shun all else and in so doing take away the awareness of _choice_ , the only real good thing about goddamn humanity, and render his entire life just,

A pragmatic inevitability

A sacrifice, destined to be,

No! He was in control! The Dark Lords would not know what every moment of his forever would be like!

“I got them! It’s much harder than it looks on TV,” Isabelle said, after the final apple had been slain. “How am I doing?”

How did a man answer that? Answer one who had so naturally exposed the designs of Hell, if she had done well or poorly?

The Doom Slayer reluctantly signed her thumbs-up. It made her cute little face beam with excitement.

\--

Isabelle invited him, her new friend, back to her home [ when the sun began to set. ](https://voca.ro/mSpMGCuaAb9) She had no concept of threat, when she asked him. She was completely innocent to the implications that the Doom Slayer could still remember a bloodsoaked forever-ago.

(It was hazy. There had been that one time, maybe, when one of the other privates had gotten a teenager drunk and taken her back to base. He could remember dialing for a cab at two in the morning. What had she been, sixteen? Beaten three men in his bunk before finding who had her number…)

It was more than surreal to arrive in this place, where he was sure no person was ‘supposed’ to see: a well-hidden secret. Turning a way that was not obvious behind the far left of the town’s main street, there were stairs behind the main front of buildings. Up the stairs, there was a utilitarian foyer and a door, and more stairs. On the second level, a hall of silent apartment suites. There was no evidence any were used but the last one on the right. Isabelle jiggled the key into the lock, turned it, and the architecture had to stretch even more to accommodate him, to ridiculous degrees.

“I don’t really spend a lot of time here,” Isabelle apologized. It was a studio apartment with a tiny kitchen off to the right side, a closet and sanitation unit to the left in a brief hall, a bed pushed out of sight to behind the utilities, and a couch placed reverse the door to look out a full-wall sliding balcony door. The only clue this was a residence and not a hotel room was the number of cardboard boxes cluttering the walls and floor. Their edges had frayed, and their top faces faded. They had rested in this position for a significant time.

Isabelle nudged a few out of her way and went to open the glass door to let the breeze in. “Make yourself comfortable… um, wherever there’s room, really. Let me know if it’s not going to work in here.”

He sat on the floor, with one leg stretching out the window on the balcony, hunched over. He had paused in more painful positions. Isabelle somehow squeezed past him, and rummaged in her kitchen cupboard. Behind the rest of her unused clutter, she found a large bottle of golden whisky. She popped the cork, considered ice, and then gave up and poured a drink neat into a glass.

Isabelle put the bottle down, and an empty glass for him, on a cardboard box by the sofa’s edge and sat. He did not pour his own drink, and shook his head when she lifted the bottle for him. At last, she gave up and raised her own in a tiny salute.

"Here's to █████," she said, and took her whisky in unflinching sips.

“I know you went to see Tom Nook,” Isabelle added, after a short while. 

So she had been watching… 

"I'm glad you didn't hurt him. It wouldn't be appropriate," she said. "Tom Nook isn't bad. He's just old, much older than me. He's nicer than he used to be, I'm told."

… and did not know yet that Nook had vanished.

"Imagine if we welcomed a human here, and there was no reason to want to do anything. Even the Garden can't be all sunshine and flowers, right? Happy people need to feel progress."

She sighed, and drank. 

"He's lucky to have a job like that. I'm only good for waiting around town hall," she lied to his face, and to herself. She swirled the remains of her drink and stared out into the black view, and blank view: velvet trees stretching on forever into the void that █████ never saw. The prospect of her world coming to heat-death bothered her greatly; an insult to her willful determination. If he had a residence, would it too be full of dusty packed-up junk and no evidence of life? Would he, like she, be a slave to a task rather than its master?

He turned around and to his arms' length a pile of boxes were in reach. He pulled one close and with no effort punctured the peeling tape with a thumb, ripping down the middle quickly. Out of its guts, he rummaged... a diploma from Lake University, a bachelor's in civil engineering. Isabelle almost dropped her glass in surprise. He continued pulling out this long-buried evidence of worth. A diploma from Faraway College, electrical engineering. Materials chemistry. Mechanical engineering. Welding, machining, and fabrication. Software _and_ hardware engineering. Browncow U, in a pewter frame: molecular engineering. Systems engineering. Isabelle’s flustered behavior reached a peak when he finally reached the bottom of the box and was about to crown the stack of twenty-three degrees from nineteen different universities with a masters of sciences in artificial intelligence from Wolfe Institute of Technology.

“Okay! Okay! I think you made your point,” Isabelle said. “All of that stuff, that’s an accomplishment, but I’m responsible for the most important job in town now. I need to be there for people, especially humans. I need to help them have an experience that makes them feel happy, like the future is waiting for them every day in █████. That way, they want to come back. It’s the whole point, that’s how we survive, don’t you see?”

How could she make such an admission sound so pathetic? There were planes that subsisted on far worse, and mundane worlds hanging in the void of space would beg for the means to sustain themselves. Many had sold themselves to demons for less. A civilization that persisted on something so rare as _tender loving care_ was anything but pathetic. It was an extremophile, a survivor, living off the most marginal resource in creation.

By contrast, suffering abounded. Hell only had to open its mouth to glut itself.

“The others tell me that other towns, ancestors of █████, were harsher lessons. Digby and I were born because something had to change, for the Garden to survive,” Isabelle said, with a tone that suggested something other than a mundane _birth_. “Now, it looks like we won’t. So doesn’t that make me a little bit of a failure? If I had just tried harder, made the mayor happier, they wouldn’t have abandoned us… But the mayor would eventually die and never return, wouldn’t they? What then?”

She knocked back this one in one go, without coughing. Her voice wavered on the edge of tears, frustration, an endless wasteland of hopelessness.

“Is that how this ends? Failing what you care about the most, because you had a Sisyphean task all along?”

The seam connecting the Praetor suit’s helmet hissed as it depressurized. Isabelle’s fur stood on end as she watched the Doom Slayer remove it. She dropped her empty glass on the sofa, and it rolled to the crack between the cushions. She stared at whatever she saw.

“Oh! Um, you d-don’t have to—” her eyes darted down to the bottle of whisky that he seized from the table and followed it back up as he raised it to his scarred lips and drank with her. 

It was good stuff. Not remotely able to intoxicate him, but it was good. It went down smooth and joined the rest of the mess ever-burning inside his formerly mortal body. With that liquid courage he did not need, the Doom Slayer spoke.

“Y— your…” _damn it_ , _willed himself to speak,_ “Your fight is not over.”

How many millennia had passed, since he had forced his tongue around any reasoned word? His voice was broken, atonal, an unrecognizable stranger burned to ash.

“A f-fight?” Isabelle whimpered. “But everything’s decided…”

“The enemy overwhelms. Still, fight,” said the Doom Slayer, words forged in unimaginable crusades, crucibles. “You will never be at advantage.”

Isabelle trembled in his sight. But not from fear. From something that was eating away at the rust in his throat, to escape.

“Rip and tear,” he told her.

She nodded, her eyes wide and rimmed. Then, as if she had accepted the weight of those words they settled down upon her. She asked him,

“What if… it doesn’t matter, how hard you fight. What if… what happens next is like the sun setting, or a fire going out?”

“Two options,” he answered. “Find the one who said that. Kill them. Or, find something else to fight for. Evade the no-win situation.”

“Okay,” Isabelle said, shaken. “Say… I fight forever, until it’s only me, and I’ve lost everyone im- important to me… do you know what that is like…?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Who?”

The Doom Slayer did not need her to finish that question she stumbled over, rage flooding his veins with molten iron. “Daisy.” Then, realized this meant nothing to her. “A pet. Rabbit. Demons killed her. There are other reasons to fight. What I have seen. What others have made of me. But Daisy propels me. She was… innocent.”

"I'm so sorry," Isabelle said.

"The demons paid for it. They are not done paying for it," said the Doom Slayer. 

"Do you ever get tired?" Isabelle asked quietly. 

She had bravely covered her weaknesses, even before him. But it was obvious she did not ask that question out of foolishness. If this world never ceased its will to host him, to bend itself to his comfort, then she never did either— if she really was its sole custodian.

"Yes," he said, in defiance of what so many voices had lied about him.

“It’s silly,” Isabelle muttered. “What if the mayor comes, and no one is there to prepare the town? What if I close my eyes, not as a little goof… and none of this is left when I wake up?”

Isabelle cringed.

“I’m so scared I’ll disappear and you’ll lose me too,” she added.

Words failed. They were clumsy and accomplished nothing. The Doom Slayer surged forward and no force would stand between him and his goal. Isabelle was in his arms instantly, against impenetrable armor and the breast underneath where a human heart still beat, still was pure despite all else, even if that purity was _pure rage, to savage the doom that would break all other souls._

Most other souls.

Isabelle was like him. She asked to understand, but she knew. Together, they knew what it was to stand against _DOOM_ , forever.

When her sobs subsided to quiet, and then to calm and low breathing, the Doom Slayer lay her down on her unused bed. Hers was the deep true sleep after torment, the least gift she had given him now repaid.

The Doom Slayer fit his helmet back on. He would have to escape this place before it forgot to make room for him. He locked the door on his way out, and when he stepped out into the street drew his shotgun.

This world’s watchdog slept at last. To the worst of creation, the hour of opportunity had come.


	9. I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE

**\--ISABELLE--**

The dark stillness clouded where Isabelle lay. One at a time, her senses began to rouse her from where someone kind had set her down. The dim ceiling above peeked through cracked eyelids. She'd slept in contacts. The AC must have been malfunctioning, from the almost grimy smell and stagnant air. It was... it was... [ she couldn't tell the time. ](https://voca.ro/1RrT4XmHX60)

She heard a knocking outside her door. 

"Coming! Just a second," she said, removing her contact lenses and fumbling for her glasses in her top drawer. The banging became more insistent. Just as Isabelle finally rushed over to open up, the wood gave way and a frenzied body broke through— a mess of moulting, singed purple feathers, a gulping maw gasping for air.

"Phyllis! Oh my gosh!" 

Phyllis— or what had once been Phyllis— grunted and bellowed, scratching the wooden floor with blunt claws, throwing herself at Isabelle with a frightening intent. Isabelle tripped backwards and fell against the boxes, but it put distance between them. Her paw flailed into space until it grasped the glass neck of an empty whisky bottle. Isabelle used the momentum springing up from the floor to smash it across Phyllis’s melting face. She panicked, feeling a million conduct reports slam down on her office desk. Did I do that? Is that— is that okay—?!

Mr. Resetti’s voice echoed. _If anything gets in your way, you just LET 'EM HAVE IT!_

She grabbed Phyllis by the upper bill and thrust the sharp bottle neck deep down the gurgling throat. Phyllis struggled as if immune to pain; Isabelle's bare grip defense had to bear down to keep hold.

**_LET ‘EM HAVE IT!!!_ **

The pelican's jaws were forced open wide and the spine exposed down the rotten gullet. A sharp crack, and Phyllis lay still at last, her skull completely dislocated.

Isabelle let Phyllis fall from her paws, and looked upon what she had done.

"I'm so sorry Pelly," she muttered, and prayed that the other sister was far, far away from this. She stepped over the corpse and ran out of her apartment. On her doorstep was poor Dr. Shrunk, in pieces. She shouldn't have fallen asleep! █████ was defenseless! Of course something like this would happen…

Main Street was abandoned. Nook's Homes was dark and boarded-up, ketchup streaked away from the post office... probably from whatever had happened to Phyllis. T&T Mart was her next stop. Timmy and Tommy had vanished, but it was an emergency. Isabelle wound up the hardest kick she could manage and fully expected to bounce off the locked glass door.

She smashed through. This really had been built on the cheap! There weren't many supplies inside though, but a brand new ax and shovel, to replace the ones she'd loaned to her friend (that he'd broken, barely a hand chopper and a trowel to him). She rooted through the rest of what was on display and couldn’t imagine what she could use wrapping paper for now. But also for sale was a brand-new server! That was a good source of electronics.

Something horrible hissed behind her. Isabelle turned on one paw, stiff and prepared for whatever she'd see now. Gangly, but tall creatures were crawling down and shattering the rest of the glass front, yowling at her. 

"Excuse me," she tried halfheartedly, as the things advanced on her. “Do you think we could, um, de-escalate?"

The things, (were these demons, that her friend had mentioned? It was as good a name as any...) didn't share her perspective. She ducked under where they lunged too high at her, shouting and running out of the store. A loud crash inside and sounds of flame hitting the wall suggested that in the confusion, they'd fumbled.

The tall T&T Mart sign still stood outside, almost like a tree. Isabelle gripped her fresh ax and begged this was as shoddy construction as the rest of the building.

The sign came down in only a few swings, which surprised her. It was heavy enough to crush one of the creatures underneath, splattering them to bits on the pavement. Another was trapped as the building was blocked off, and Isabelle left it there. The last was agile enough to clamber over the obstacle and leap at her face.

Isabelle gripped the ax, her glasses crooked, and swung. 

The demon screamed and thrashed where the blade bit through its flesh and lodged in its spine. Isabelle yanked backward and then with another whack felled its trunk from its legs, and then buried a third swing down into its brains. Her nice clothes were already very messy. She looked down the avenue. Blathers' museum probably would be defensible, but once she got there, what would she do? Hide forever?

She turned away and crossed the train tracks. The stars spun overhead, [her world was shot down and falling through space](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvWttQpM_Qw).

\--

The first priority was originally going to check if anybody was still okay. Isabelle shelved that, because there were probably no survivors. She found Derwin early, and his good friend Graham was eating him. Luckily, the river— which was boiling— was nearby, and it wasn't too hard to overpower a hamster and throw him in, and hold him under with the butt of her butterfly net until he stopped moving.

Zombie Kevin was shredded by shot and slowly roasting with two empty shells on the burning grass. Wherever her friend with the gun was, he'd been still alive only recently.

The next most important destination was the town hall. Isabelle thought carefully about her path, kept low, and stuck to cover. There were no more interruptions until she got where she was going. Then she met the remains of Roscoe, cranky to the last, trying to bust down the door with his hooves. A horse was a little bit more physically imposing than most of the other residents, but a pushy attitude meant nothing when his skin was turning to glue right on his body. A few whacks with a shovel and he had no more kneecaps, and then no more face, and no neighbor would complain about him ever again. Hopefully something had just eaten Opal. She normally could be reasoned with, but Isabelle needed a better idea to deal with a zombie elephant.

Just as she was juggling her keys to open the door, she heard another horrible noise behind her, different from the first kind but still very awful. Demons really liked attacking from behind, they didn’t seem very fair. A gross, horned, screaming skull was speeding toward her, wreathed in dangerous fire—

"Oh no, you don't!" she barked and splashed the thing with her watering can. It did the opposite of a flower when watered. It died. 

The office was only mostly on fire inside. She slammed the door behind her and then hopped over the counter to her place. Her spare contacts were under the desk and it was only a few seconds to swap her fragile glasses out. Then, she took a deep breath, even though it smelled like charcoal, and tried to center her mind.

Isabelle pretended like she was about to set everything up for the mayor, as if they really had arrived. A minute later, she was still standing at attention, staring into the depths of concentration.

"Darn it!" She smacked the wood of her desk. Her wilted sunflowers toppled over. There really wasn't any way to reach her duties to set up and rebuild the town without the Mayor. If they'd just come back, this could be over in a second! Because they had abandoned █████, this was happening…

The mayor's chair was empty behind her. But she knew sitting in it wouldn't do anything. And she hadn't raised enough funds to bring back the Resetti Surveillance Center, the only other direct line to monitor and instigate resets. What an inconvenient budget cut! She just had to see this through manually.

Peanut crashed through one of the plate windows and lunged for Isabelle’s throat, her pink fur mottling together with her pink flesh. The heavy base of the nearby desk phone could have made an okay improvised weapon, but it broke after one swing. Smoking forms and papers scattered everywhere. Peanut recovered quickly and bit Isabelle’s left shoulder hard enough to draw blood. But Isabelle was still slightly larger between the animals and threw Peanut over the counter, followed by the remains of the sunflower pot and then the first thing she could get out of her pockets.

A large, furious bee flew directly at Peanut. 

It bought Isabelle enough time to escape through the window, her fur studded with glass shards. But it wouldn’t last, Peanut was coming back covered in bee stings along with the rest of her warped flesh through the jagged frame.

Isabelle’s grasp fell on the next thing in her pockets. Two bright shots later, Peanut was no more and in her paws she held the blaster gun that her new friend had given her. He didn’t want it back.

She could see why. It got the job done but… it wasn’t very good if it used all this technology but wasn’t much more effective than a gardening shovel at point blank.

Still, it was a better idea than just hoping she didn’t encounter anything too ax-proof. Isabelle ran to Re-Tail, explosions echoing in the distance. Whatever threw fire as she sprinted and puffed through the trees and past the stumps couldn’t get a clear shot, and when she got there the structure was still sturdy and unlocked. 

Isabelle hoped wherever Reese and Cyrus were, they were together and happy. She secured the door with a piece of scrap metal and an old dresser. Then she threw down the foreign gun and gathered all the tools and equipment she could find, as well as everything she had lying around in her pockets, from the flea market. Anything!

After closer inspection, the EMG mechanism was definitely complicated… maybe a bit more than rocket science... but...!

“This won’t take long,” she said, and began taking some measurements of the shells she’d picked up some time earlier. She had to know what caliber ammunition existed, where guns were real.


	10. PARADISE LOST

**\--DOOMGUY--**

The demons converged at the wilted tree in █████’s town square. There was nothing simpler for the Doom Slayer than following his quarry to find its nest, or its ultimate goal. The path ahead, more enemies. The path behind, none remaining. 

Only Hell knew what it wanted with the tree. It was important enough to Isabelle. Planted by her mayor, Nook seemed convinced its properties were powerful enough to trap even him. No trick was obvious. It was, to the Doom Slayer, only a tree.

The host of Hell scrambled to dig at its roots, claw its bark, burn its few yellowed leaves. If Hell wanted it, like fuck he’d allow them to get it.

It was waves after waves of fodder, and the annoyance of a Hell Baron and eight knights[ that their commander dared show itself on the field of battle ](https://youtu.be/_3VHzhVaIts). A long twisting serpent would be slow and nothing to him, if it did not nest upon a frame of mutilated flesh, curse-iron and hellstone. It knotted around arms and legs and moved them as if they were its own. A Pit Worm, the demonkind called it, but he had never seen one. This kingdom of Hell invading now must have been reclusive or cowardly.

“Hellwalker!” It spat poison with every word it spoke. “You struggle at the edge of a dead world!”

Listening to a creature like this was pointless. Even it did not believe its own words if it was pleading _him_ to lay down arms. It wielded its own long, sinuous tail as one limb and lashed out immediately. It cracked like a bullwhip where he had once stood, shielding itself with a false arm that was blunt and heavy like a bulwark.

The solution was easy— the BFG-9000 was at hand— until the problem became clear. This asshole was like the rest of his minions, and stuck close to █████’s tree. One shot would blow it away, and if it could not be used as cover—

He pulled out his gauss cannon instead and steadied a shot at the twisting head of the demon. No good— too fast, undulating with molten spray. The joints of the armature! The huge creature could rearrange its vital spots easily, but it could not change the frame that granted it rapid motion.

“I was sent only to see why the void is late in swallowing you!” it called out again, and insultingly turned its attention from him.

To the tree. It seized it in evil coils and constricted, shrugging off plasma fire. The Doom Slayer surged forward to physically pry the Pit Worm away, but it was too late. The soil showered and _cried in pain_ as the trunk ripped free of the earth, exposing a glowing knuckhole tunneled up from brimstone. The broken roots, gnawed and tortured, almost looked like they were writhing as they withered. Leaves scattered everywhere, and an ashy dust.

“Isn’t this holding up the dimension? Isn’t this the core?” the Pit Worm cried out.

Its attention shot to the Doom Slayer and it fell upon him with all of its malice. There was nothing to protect now, and no reason but dwindling ammunition not to blow it away. 

As they struggled, the grass died all around them and the town’s tree splintered into kindling. The sky went black, and the stones crumbled into chalk. At last, the Pit Worm was winded, limping on its broken frame, its scales snowflaked with wounds.

The Doom Slayer’s last plasma clip ran dry. In █████, guns did not exist. There were no caches of ammunition, the minions of Hell carried none within their gore. Rifle rounds did little to the Worm’s hide, and he had only four shells left. It was not yet the time to enter melee, there was no opening, but what was there left to do? His chainsaw bit into the frame, it had writhed out of the way of his intended target, and the chain stuck fast. Oil-slick scales surrounded him, crushing down on the Praetor suit.

“I will hold you here, as Hell holds your rage for ever!” it screamed, fouling the earth with its searing bile. “Just a little longer, until this plane is undone and reality forgets you!”

One shot called out from behind in argument, while the Pit Worm’s attention was so fully captured. Brains sprayed in a fine mist, an instant of relief against a bright yellow beam of light. The damning grip loosened in shock. The Doom Slayer’s chainsaw bit at last into its neck, _brrr, brrr, brrr_ through thick scales, peeling back the shuddering flesh until it sundered apart completely. Finally, its forked tongue was silenced.

“What a mess!” Isabelle yelled over the sound of her world burning. “Are you all right over there?”

She clambered over the decapitated corpse, carefully pointing her weapon’s muzzle down and away to prevent accidents. It was difficult to tell if the weapon she held was sawed-off in length or merely scaled for her size. For someone who had rarely even seen a firearm before, Isabelle had done an impressive job engineering a sensible over-under shotgun. The stock was only roughly finished, jaggedly cut to accommodate electronics. He could see where the EMG unit had been adapted as the firing mechanism… clever.

Whatever Isabelle’s technical expertise, her world would have no prior example of a hammer and firing pin. Working off of the original specifications, she must have set a tiny EMG pulse to strike the round instead, accomplishing the same task. And, if no round was chambered…

“Oh, you’re looking at this,” Isabelle said, careful with the safety on to show him her work. “I don’t actually have bullets for it yet, but it still shoots alright with just the directed energy generator. I also fixed the frequency, for a little more, um, oomph! I have a lot of questions for whoever designed the original one…”

She snapped back to focus. “Oops! I got a little bit carried away.” She looked up at him, and then at the blasted environment. “I’m glad you’re OK. Nobody else made it. I really shouldn’t have slept, It’s—”

Isabelle sighed. 

“I would have gotten too tired to go on eventually,” she admitted.

The Pit Worm had been certain that Isabelle’s dimension should have died and collapsed. The Doom Slayer kicked over the brittle, dead trunk of █████’s tree. Why _hadn’t_ this place turned inside-out yet?

Hidden in the branches, a shining blood-red fruit exposed itself, hanging from the last healthy stem. Isabelle trotted over and sadly plucked it free. She looked at it with a sorrowful expression, pocketed it and then approached the small golden spot where the tree had once been rooted. She thrust her shovel down into it, dug to widen it, until a window of firelight below blazed up at the sky.

“I’m going down there,” Isabelle said, and leaped straight down into Hell. Nothing but the clothes on her back, garden tools, and a gun. It was almost nostalgic.


	11. TRIAL BY FIRE

**\--DOOMGUY--**

[ Isabelle had wandered a few paces north ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GX47QeNeZjQ) to the lip of a blasted cliff, teetered backwards from the vibration of his hard landing. She had not sustained any damage from the passage. Her soul was strong, the inferno could not touch her. If he felt out of place in her world, she was an even more obvious anomaly against the smoking pyres and foul trenches of Hell. She almost glowed, as if she only existed on a sunny, pleasant day and could never be displaced.

“I don’t think they know we’re here yet,” Isabelle said.

He crouched beside her to survey the landscape. An isolated kingdom of Hell, twisting around itself in hideous loops and unanchored ramparts of stone, floating in a fiery quagmire. There were few warrens or worm-eaten temples that he could see. An open-concept inferno? Gravity was highly local such that every remote path looked to have its own ‘down.’ In the center of everything, the middle of the sky from every vector, a crumpled mass of black quartz hung suspended on nothing. A heart, or a throne? 

Isabelle stared up at it. She was sure her goal lay there.

“We should hurry,” she added. 

He offered Isabelle a hand. She was no burden to him, and soon she was carefully balanced on his shoulder. It took both of her paws to brace herself through his stride, the tiny bell tying her fur out of the way jingled quietly with his footfalls. She took advantage of the view.

“I feel like I’m looking at the opposite of a town,” she said. “The opposite of what █████’s supposed to be.”

She was not wrong.

“If I had to give it a star rating,” Isabelle whispered, “negative stars. Below zero stars.”

As amusing as it was to imagine her ‘Happy Home Academy’ showing up on the Devil’s doorstep to insult the interior decorating, color commentary met its end. Demons had caught his scent at last, and through red flashes of fire swarmed to meet him. Them. Together. A difficult concept.

He pulled forth his combat shotgun, knowing he would soon have to replenish ammunition. Isabelle gasped as the first fireball blew past him, the speed with which he threw himself out of the way.

Now, he would see the strength of Isabelle’s conviction.

“Rip,” he told her, and the air of Hell trembled before the Doom Slayer’s speech.

“[And tear](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vyA1z2A-lhU),” Isabelle answered. She cast herself from him and punched a nearby Hell Razer in the face. 

**\--ISABELLE--**

Something was really, really wrong. Isabelle had to think this, reloading shells into her new little gun. Click-click—BOOM! That wasn’t what was wrong— the gun worked fine, actually. The demons definitely died when she used it, so that was going great!

A lot of things had gone bad, and wrong. She swung upward with the butt of her stock and broke a nearby knee. No, not that action, _that_ was very successful! █████ was gone, there was no way to repair it, everyone she knew and loved was counting on her for their future, and the mayor would never, ever know what had happened to their town! If she'd asked herself in 2015, what was the worst that could happen... things _she couldn’t even have imagined_ had gone wrong since then! 

(She scampered out of the way of a churn of fire from a gross, bloated thing’s flamethrower. Then it was a sitting duck way too slow to catch her running right up and splitting its belly with her ax. Its squirming intestines poured out and right over a nearby monster who’d followed her. The whole screaming mess ignited. It was nicely out of the way of her friend, who had hopped the chasm and was cleaning house over there.)

Those things, though, were still not the thing she was thinking of that was really, really wrong. She blew the leg off a horrible flying skeleton. While it had trouble landing, she hopped up to catch its harness and in confusion it pulled her up and over the chasm, where she jumped off and down to catch up with her friend. It crashed somewhere behind in a giant explosion.

The thing that was wrong was her.

One of those smaller (?) demons was injured and trying to escape her friend in the chaos. She didn’t know why she pulled out her shovel, but it was _right_ when she reversed grip on it and threw it like a javelin from varsity track meet. Bullseye— no more eyes. 

“You don’t like confrontation,” she tried to remind herself as she ran to pick it up. But was that true? _"Isabelle will go Isabellistic if you break a window!"_ Kevin had whispered that rumor to the mayor once. Sure, she’d gotten upset, but only a little, right?

She tripped a bit off a ledge, but that was OK, because there was an ugly spiky meatball sort of thing floating right there, and its glowing green eye reminded her of a weed _so much_ that she just _had_ to plunge her paw right down in there and yank _it right out — _

“You’re always agreeable,” she did her best to affirm. But wasn’t everyone always happier when you agreed? Even when they were scared, shouldn’t you pretend too so they wouldn’t be ashamed? So you wouldn’t make them feel bad?

A very, very tall demon appeared right in her personal space, winding up to kick her like a football. A rocket explosion interrupted all its plans, thanks to her friend over there. Isabelle sunk her teeth in and bit a chunk out of the evil, fleshy leg. Its blood soaked her, she could taste iron and sulphur.

“You’re not intimidating to anybody,” she insisted, shooting the big demon at point blank from below. Nook’s surprise stuck in her brain, when she yelled at him. She shot the big demon again. Nook was the most powerful of any of them presiding over the Garden.

She filled her target with bitter lead. _Was_ Nook the strongest? 

The giant demon reeled to the side now that its intestines were very redecorated, stumbled just long enough for Isabelle to slip around and bury her ax in its spine. With that handhold she hauled herself up on top of its neck where it failed to reach her. When the mechanical bull ride was over Isabelle chopped down with all her might once, twice, three times until its skull split like cordwood. She rode it down, until she bumped off and took a tumble onto the ground. Her paws were dyed slick red in front of her. She stared straight ahead, gasping to catch her breath.

Her tail was wagging. Something was wrong with her!

It felt productive in a way that a quadruple major didn’t match! The high tension! The pressure! The payoff!

It felt like actually doing something after years of stepping aside and waiting to be called! 

It felt like every second of holding back and being _nice_ was washing away in a tide of blood!

It felt like being free!

It was wrong to feel that way! Everything had come to an end in █████, and that was sad! It shouldn’t be a relief for it all to be over! How could this be _just what she needed?_

_How could she feel so good on the worst day of her life?_

Her best friend— the Hellwalker, the Doom Slayer, it was almost sad to be known by names enemies called you— helped her up where she’d fallen down. He did not have to speak, his body language was clear. He was asking her if she was all right.

“Pew pew! That was fun! Give me a high five?” she said, and hoped they had those where he came from. He did, but it took a second for him to get there. She jumped up as high as she could and managed to slap his bloodied gauntlet.

**\--DOOMGUY--**

Well, fuck.

She was a natural.


	12. HELL BENT

**\--DOOMGUY--**

The Doom Slayer’s momentum grew with every slain enemy, that was true. But the unholy hordes fell well, before Isabelle. She was a new retort to their evil logic. Hell believed in absolute power, a delusion he had crushed by force many times. But rather than matching and defeating their beliefs, Isabelle literally fell short. Her hide was resistant to their malevolence, and why wouldn't it be? The same power wrapped around her town, an anathema to all ill will. Her ways protected her from them, while they were reduced to buffoons who struggled to hit her small target. Hell thought dominance through tyranny was the ideal form of life. Isabelle did not need to prove she was greater or more vast in hatred to chastise them. She was so helpful, she had no trouble helping them die.

He had an eternity to kill every single Demon in the multiverse. Isabelle was here _now._ He had to see what she could do.

First, simple target practice. The open terrain of this kingdom of Hell was a hazard, but made demons vulnerable to pick off from a distance. He opened engagement with the gauss cannon, startled to feel an utterance of laughter in his throat when the bright red cacodemon floating by reminded him of a passing balloon. Isabelle took to moving targets quickly, and proved that the enhanced EMG beam she had engineered was accurate at long range, and more effective than the original pistol’s output by far.

When their barrage drew attention, demons breached proximity steadily enough to show her heavy weapons. Isabelle _was_ able to hold his rocket launcher, but it was too unwieldy for her to move with for long. As this _was_ a test with live demons, the Doom Slayer compromised by picking her up and offering his shoulder as her platform.

Unfortunately, his chaingun _was_ too large for her. Not in weight— with determination her fluff-and-nothing stature ignored the physical mass of lifting. But her arms were too short to operate it. It was a pleasure to do that for her, though: her little body braced in front of his own. He could feel her excitement as the foes before them shredded into paste. She would probably try to engineer herself one of these too, and he didn't blame her.

She gasped when he finally pulled out the BFG-9000. “Wow, that’s a big freaking’ gun!!” 

[ She already understood what was going on](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHM2OIcG8Ok). He did not let her roam free as long as this weapon was in his hands; the potential for… collateral damage… was too great. But Isabelle's enthusiasm and wonder sparkled even brighter in the wake of the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Beings had regarded the threat of destruction he carried with fear, awe, worship, envy, even willful ignorance. But never before true warmth.

The Doom Slayer was no longer a mortal human. He had savaged untold hell-planes without hunger, fatigue, or injury. Sickness and age could not touch him. But damn, if an immortal couldn’t still starve to death inside, to atrophy and rot until God himself could not find a soul. It was not a question if he would or could fight the endless armies of Hell for all of time, but held captive and berserk he had forgotten if he had loved it.

When he threw a grenade and missed an agile summoner or archvile, Isabelle ran in without fear, snatched it from the ground and flung it with only a simple slingshot to the correct target. That was love.

When Vega calmly explained how to dismantle his own systems, giving away his life freely, the Doom Slayer had intervened. He kept Vega safe now. That too, was love.

The Demons thought they understood him. The Argent had thought to understand as well. They never would. They saw Hell's wrath, and they saw his wrath, and saw a battle of equal titans. Fire against fire. Carnage against carnage. 

_"You will be worse,"_ said King Novik, who didn't fucking understand why his champion was even there. 

\--

“I can’t see these people as very fun-loving,” Isabelle admitted. “So why do they hide so many little secrets everywhere?”

The Doom Slayer, in all honesty, had no answer. However the mechanisms of Hell had their own internal logic or uses, none of it had to be recognizable to outsiders. Why would it be, when human beings usually died crossing dimensions? But, in their hubris, the Doom Slayer found the rudimentary (if inconvenient) nature of their works useful. Demons would never invent more than a simple lock or switch if they assumed an intruder’s brains would melt out before ever getting to the door. 

The passage wound on the underside of one of the paths, hidden to the major horde. Away from the sight of the ever-present monolith. Here, gravity was reversed, and they clung to the opposite side of the tangled ground.

“I feel like I’ve learned something about you,” Isabelle said.

The Doom Slayer did not consider himself particularly complex.

“This place would make anybody angry. I was worried, when you came to █████ if it was something I did. Not for very long! Just…” She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant to say, sorry…”

She tried again.

“I think the demons want this place to bring out the worst in anyone.” She turned up to him. “But, you're not exactly slamming your head against these funny puzzles and games they are trying to bother you with. They probably mean to create someone who was so frustrated they couldn’t think or make any progress. And you're not that at all."

A smile really was the rarest thing in Hell.

“I think they brought out the best in you, by mistake,” Isabelle said.

Together they came to a room with a single switch, a single skull set into an idol of bone. It was obviously a trap of some sort.

“That’s got to be a trap,” confirmed Isabelle. “But... “

They were going to spring it.

“I’ll touch it anyway,” Isabelle agreed. 

(And how could the rest of her judgement of him be a fuckup, a delusion or a naive dream if she was so precisely on the mark here? When they were one in so many ways, how could he do anything but accept? Who knew him: the kings and devils that saw him for the Worse, or the kindred spirit that saw him Best?)

Isabelle reached up with the stick of her butterfly net and pressed in the switch. It was a more useful tool than he expected, but he did not experience the world from her perspective, with her short reach. 

A mechanism deep in the ground clicked. What was beneath them twisted in mobius design until their hidden alcove had reversed into an exposed cell. Gravity shit itself too. The Praetor suit compensated, but Isabelle tumbled into the sky. The Doom Slayer had never cursed before that every tool he had was committed to disposing of his hated enemies, and he had nothing utilitarian _to catch what was beyond reach_. Isabelle’s net fell with her, then down and out of sight into the hissing brimstone beyond the coil.

She had joined that dark mount in the middle. Demons spawned unlucky all around him, because any reason to check his targets was now gone.


	13. HURT ME PLENTY

**\--DOOMGUY--**

To be knee-deep in the dead was nothing new. It did not demand The Doom Slayer’s full attention. He was witness to what happened on that shadowed land as he fought to meet it. 

That dark and jagged stone cracked. It unfurled from itself, Isabelle staggering as the ground beneath her untied and the body of a savage creature split from it. Perhaps all of it was stony scales and obsidian-glass gnarls, and it only roused enough to address what it saw as prey.

“Is this small thing so riotous in my kingdom?” it thundered down at her, lowering its massive face to see the ant that scurried on its body. 

Isabelle shot it in the eye.

“Attention, demonic neighbor,” she said, reloading two shells. “But you need to file a request for development before moving in.”

She shot it again. But it only laughed at her, a sound that doubled the Doom Slayer’s haste.

She shot a third time up into its writhing body.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, please,” Isabelle said. “If it wasn’t literally my purpose to speak on behalf of █████, I wouldn’t bother.”

The Doom Slayer should have warned her, how perilous it was to converse with a demon.

“You have no power. Yours is the weakest of its kind, that founders in the universe. Greater members of your species have been fruitful for us, offered many sacrifices and much labor to our domain,” said the grand demon. “But you are a failure, you have starved in your bed: dying before I put you out of your misery.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not just trying to get rid of my friend,” Isabelle said. “You’re not here to help anyone, least of all the Garden.”

Its foul amusement reached its peak, where its undulating body lashed out against the many paths surrounding its throne, shattering stone and causing the lesser hellspawn to scatter before the thoughtless stirring.

“It matters not,” said the demon. “My decree is absolute. You cannot withstand Asmodeus, Prince in Hell.”

A Prince of Hell! Subordinate to its current Dark Lord— one of seven, that through their mastery of Hell’s dimensions never allowed the Doom Slayer near. It sat confident and debased, just out of range, taunting him with endless levels that wrapped in on one another, so there was no path between him and it!

“Mr. Asmodeus, I'm afraid this is your only warning. If you don't let go of the Garden right now, I'll have to escalate.”

Asmodeus drew away, looming high over Isabelle. His coils hardened and constricted close, forming an obsidian barrier against even the smallest threat, the tiny dog that barked up at it.

“Your world is the least of my conquests. But I see why through you, it clings to existence,” said Asmodeus in treachery. “Your hatred sustained it. Your contempt for humanity has nourished it, when all other sources of survival turned their back.”

Like any professional service worker, Isabelle did not humor this tantrum with an answer.

Asmodeus grinned, exposing a maw of four million fangs. “I have gnawed through the root of you, Cherub, and it is sweet with animus. Your human kept you as a pet happily, for a time. But when they tired of you, they mercilessly ended all life in your little town. They wiped clean their debts by force. All those memories! All that sustained you. And in the void they had left behind, they built █████.”

Isabelle stood patiently before this Prince of Hell, silent. Waiting.

“Actually, you built █████ for them. Just as you destroyed everything for them. You would do anything they asked, after all. You were their plaything.”

In the depths of combat, the Doom Slayer had never before wanted to break away from his silence, toss off the layers of ancient scars and roar in scathing defense against twisted words that were more wicked than fireballs.

“And when █████ did not satisfy, that human being abandoned you entirely. You resent them, for you sat eons in foolish faith that they would return.”

When Isabelle did not stop him, Asmodeus believed she _could_ not stop him. That was the way of one who believed they had every advantage and their foe had none.

“How naive! Humans give away pieces of their soul— their whole souls— so freely. I know what you took from your own corpse! I know what your harvest was.”

Out of her pockets, Isabelle produced a blood-red fruit the size of a human’s fist. It throbbed in hand, the skin still shining and pristine. She stared into it.

“Eat the heart of your hated one and gain power over them. Devour, and they will suffer as you have suffered, and more. Sacrifice them, to save yourself.”

Isabelle pulled out her battered shovel and answered the demon.

“I am angry at the Mayor,” she finally admitted. “But you don’t really care, you wouldn’t be trying to confuse me if something I had here didn’t scare you— didn’t compel you to try and stop me!”

She brandished her world’s most basic tool at this Prince of Hell.

“I don’t really know if the mayor is a good person, or a bad person. Despite what you say... I hope wherever they are, they’re happy, and laughing at every new day!”

He watched as Isabelle charged with pure forward intent up the coils of Asmodeus. Minor demons heeded their Prince’s call, but few could find footing on the shifting terrain of that body. Isabelle scrambled, climbed, clawed and bit her way up. When the Prince slammed his palm down upon her, she staggered aside or darted away. She struck down the fodder that harried her, and did not bother with the Hell Knights that staggered over the unsteady ground, but passed through their legs and up her climb undaunted. When there was no way to proceed, she threw her shovel up to impale an unfortunate imp, gored up upon the massive bodyscape. Then pulled out her fishing rod, hooked a passing cacodemon and rappelled up to her weapon.

At last, the Doom Slayer touched down upon Asmodeus’ hide and lay waste to the smallest and the greatest of demons with impartial rancor. Had it been Isabelle’s strategy all along to hold his enemy’s attention, risking psychological damage, to distract it from rearranging the world and keeping him away? To lull the one who lusted for her suffering into a stupor, before baring her teeth?

The disrespect of her enemies struck her away from the summit, sending her rolling back down the way she came. It would not be tolerated; the Doom Slayer picked her scuffed body up even while she scrambled to recover. He cast her towards her goal with a strength exceeding a Titan. In her hand he could see the pinpoint of bright, sanguine red pulsing volatile. Like a—

Motherfucker. She had all the power her world had gathered, the heart and soul that was freely given. Torture was not an efficient energy transfer; what she held surpassed what Hell could extract from a hundred million slaves, or more.


	14. FOR WHOM THE BELLE TOLLS

"Sacrifice."

  
  


Don't be silly.

  
  


That's not how the Garden grows.

  


You don't make others pay for it.

  


Nobody has to hurt.

  
  


You just have to

  


Put your heart in it.

  
  



	15. C H E R U B I M

[\-- ISABELLE--](https://voca.ro/7GSYcOwxgSn)


	16. SLAYER'S TESTAMENT IX

The shadow hosts pled to ever higher powers for deliverance from their great predator. Resenting the loss of his chattel, the Prince of Lust seized the Doom Slayer, cast adrift by an agent of fate, and threw him into a dying ember of creation. There, his desire to winnow the hosts of Doom would fester until the end of existence. But upon that forgotten plane dwelled the Cherubim, a golden Hound tasked with indomitable purpose. The covenant formed between them forced the Prince's hand, and the ensuing battle tore apart the very heart of his domain. Despite the Prince's ultimate might, he perished: ruined by the Hellwalker's retribution, and pierced by the fang of the Hound. His kingdom was devoured utterly, and any demon to pass thereafter consumed by that ravenous beast. And so this blasphemy changed the borders of Hell itself...


	17. NEW HORIZONS

**\--DOOMGUY--**

Two enormous heavy boots approached the airport check-in. Two young tanooki brothers rushed over, then leaned out over the counter for a futile attempt at eye contact. Their customer's helm scraped the ceiling.

"G-good afternoon!" said the one on the left, trembling with nerves. "H... how can we help you?"

His brother elbowed him silently. The giant man tapped the sign over the counter, [ " _Nook Inc.'s Deserted Island Getaway Package"_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dy6D3QYnhSk)

"Right, right! Sorry, I must have been mistaken," said the first brother. "Let me be the first to congratulate you for selecting our Deserted Island Getaway Package! Let me introduce myself. I'm Timmy,"

"And I'm Tommy," said the other brother,

"And we're with Nook Inc.! We'll be flying to the island with you— think of us as your partners," finished Timmy. Then he shifted aside to his computer. "Let's look for your application. Can I have your name and birthday? Where do you live currently? In what hemisphere?"

The Doom Slayer looked down at the tiny animal, bloodcurdling in his gaze. He did not speak.

After an unimaginably tense moment, his brother Tommy rummaged around in the physical files behind the desk and pulled out an old manila folder with faded edges. A stamp of a tree could still be seen in one corner. After flapping his brother on the head with it, Timmy opened that instead. Whatever was inside shocked the young tanooki and he immediately began to sweat.

"Oh! I'm so sorry Sir, I had no idea you were a VIP. We have all your information right here," Timmy said. "Is there a specific island you prefer? Only the best for you, right?"

Timmy looked up at that distant facade.

"I- I see! Okay, I'll just... take care of that for you," he said. "Um, there's... one more question. Company policy, sorry. If you could only bring one t-thing to a deserted island, what would it be?"

The brothers trembled as the giant before them reached into his personal storage and pulled out— not his shotgun, or any of his arsenal— a worn lucky rabbits' foot (an ordinary rabbit, not a sapient rabbit, thank god!), bound on a leather thong cracked from age. A marine's dogtags were tied next to it, so eroded that the name was illegible. Still, it was a gruesome token to show to some furry woodland critters.

"Yikes! It was just a hypothetical question," Timmy squeaked.

The gate announcement for the chartered flight interrupted this small disgrace. The Doom Slayer reached down and pocketed his memento. The two brothers had little idea they were among the few across space and time to behold it. 

"Perfect timing!" Timmy said. "Please, after you, Mr. VIP!"

Then, when the Doom Slayer filed past him into the gate ramp, he turned aside to his brother who remarked, "We really don't get enough training for a situation like this...."

\--

The pilot fussed about weight limits, but after the brothers had convinced him that this passenger had to board, no matter what, relented. The flight commenced, the Doom Slayer crammed in to one half of the seaplane, with all the other passengers and all cargo fit on the other side to try balancing the payload. Below, the sea glittered. 

This was what had become of it all— of the entity to host towns like █████, and of that isolated infernal kingdom. Endless shattered islands dotted the wide ocean, where Hell no longer had influence. A new reality, claimed by what these forces secretly referred to as 'The Garden.' To early human civilization, Eden. Not Urdak...

A specific island approached over the new horizon, and as the seaplane descended large, red apples could be seen in the branches of the wild trees.

It was as much of a production to disembark as it had been to board, but at last wooden planks creaked under the Doom Slayer's weight. The few other passengers crowded on the other side of the pier, a safe distance away.

"Please join us for a short orientation at the Plaza nearby. Our fearless l-leader himself will be there, and none of you should miss it. Especially you, Mr. VIP, sir!" 

The Doom Slayer did not join anyone. He walked the length of the island, then back, and forth, searching. No puny river or cliff hindered him.

But she wasn't here...

[ Night had fallen ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vV6Xcijcwng)by the time he approached the plaza, where the denizens of the island had lit a celebratory bonfire. Nook was there waiting for him, gazing furtively at the time on what looked like an old-fashioned touch-screen cell phone. 

"Ah, there he is! It truly is an honor to meet such a distinguished figure," said Nook. He signaled to his underlings, and they chaperoned the other animals to their little tents. "Yes, I’m Tom Nook. Come with me. There's a lot to discuss."

He offered his hand to shake, but it was no pure, sincere welcome. He had already tested the risk upon his underlings first. When the Doom Slayer did not move, he cracked a wide salesman's grin. "Yes, yes, you're wise to have doubts. But you will just have to believe me when I say that it's in your interest to sort things out with Nook Inc. There's nothing to be done otherwise."

He could not decide if it would be amusing or the maximum irritation to get Nook and Hayden in the same room. He walked along with the raccoon-dog past the plaza borders, up to a secluded bend in the river. He did not allow Nook the satisfaction of forcing him to follow. Soon the old critter was panting and leaning on both of his knees.

Nook caught his breath, and then began. "I have to thank you, first. You really are the best in the industry, when it comes to exterminating those pesky demons. They are an eyesore, unpleasant, and they drive the value anywhere they go into the ground."

Nook sat on a nearby rock sticking out of the ground.

"Now, I know they were trying to cut off your operation in specific, but I do not blame you in the least for their appearance. Between that, and the slow march of entropy, I think you were the key to a beneficial resolution in the end," Nook continued. "But before we can discuss why you are here, I need to know for certain you are aware of the... situation."

Nook’s tone changed, as serious as such a small creature could be. 

“The terms set by the Garden assume an ordinary human may choose to take residence here. It is a mutual relationship. Their debts here do not follow their immortal soul, there is no interest to be collected later. They may also choose to leave at any time, for any reason. Eventually, that leaving will be mandatory— and I’m sure you know why,” he explained. “But you are not a typical human. You will not die. If you cement this relationship, I can foresee it enduring… why, as long as either of us see fit to carry on. And then, possibly into whatever form it may next take. Forever, even.”

He gathered his composure, no longer willing to speculate. “I won’t lie to you. It is in my interest to cement this contract. It would be beneficial to the Garden, to never lose our cherished one. But I cannot in good conscience, without disclaimer, sell you terms that would go on _forever — _ regardless of your comings or goings _._ Anything _forever_ , even something pleasant, might bore you, or torment you.”

The Doom Slayer squeezed one fist, popping the joints of the Praetor armor.

“Hm, well! If you’re sure…” Nook said. “Or is this… about something else?”

The raccoon damn well knew what it was about. His fur was tense and bristled, but unlike his minions he kept composure. 

“Ah, I see. You remember what I said to Isabelle, on that day. Is it at odds with what I’m telling you now?” He looked out to the river, the tiny ripples of fish on the surface. “You will find it difficult to punish me, if you want. I will not stop you, and you will find a way. But it is my purpose in the Garden to oppose, so that others rise to overcome. And Isabelle rose beautifully, beyond the expectations of anyone to know her! In fact, I have quite a lot of egg on my face already, for underestimating her…”

He crossed his arms. “The Garden should never have left her alone in that office, however suited she was for it. That was a little oversight that has since been fixed. But, _I_ will bear the responsibility that caused her hurt. Yes, I formed Nook Inc. to handle this island which I am responsible for— which you have neglected to name, by the way— as penance for what Isabelle suffered.”

This seemed reasonable, if Nook was telling the truth. There was eternity to hold him to his word.

“But you're not after me in specific. You’re looking for Isabelle, hm? She’s not here.”

And like all egotistical assholes of this world, he put the Doom Slayer’s goals behind what would suit him.

“She won't exist until she has a reason to. What does anyone need with a secretary on a deserted island?”

The Doom Slayer’s shotgun pressed neatly against Tom Nook’s whole torso. The double barrel was wider than his entire body. And… perhaps a reason to respect the man, Nook paid no mind to it.

“Just what do you think you’re doing with that? Isabelle put everything, her life, her faith, her heart, into making sure this future existed. Do you think she’ll be conjured by waving a gun around? Something anyone could do?”

When the Doom Slayer’s barrel dropped even the slightest bit, Nook smiled to himself. “Ah, I shouldn’t slip into old habits.”


	18. WELCOME HOME

If that was what had to be done, by His will it was done.

On the first day, He ordered the first dwellings, to where all would Retire in the night, and Rise in the day. He took inventory of the creatures in the sea, grass, and trees. Thus He was assisted by the angel of Tasks.

On the second day, the angel of Knowledge flew to His side, to witness every Organism. On this day, He cut from the earth and trees the means to refine creation.

On the third day, the Hecate joined Him in praise of all Arts. His spirit hovered before the great Sea, to gather drifting souls and place them in His design.

On the fourth day, He shaped form and structure, and those souls did alight.

On the fifth day, He set to ford the waters that cascaded from primordial springs. As they made way, everywhere He stepped bloomed the red anemone and the white lily.

On the sixth day, He attended the falling star, and in the void where it resided, placed His unknowable Wish.

On the seventh day...

A dot reflecting the sunrise appeared over the horizon. The flight approached, circled, and landed amidst turbulence and lashing waves, and the pilot personally wished the passengers well as they deplaned.

Isabelle exited the gate with her belongings, and out of the terminal. The wind combed through her fur, and she slapped her sunhat down before it blew away. Her luggage bumped up over the seam between linoleum and wooden pier. Slowly, she inhaled the salt air and strode towards her new job. This first new day would be onboarding, and a quick training, and then she wanted to get started right away laying down some processes if any civic development was going to commence...

Beyond the beach, a towering man in armor was waiting for her.

The handle of her suitcase clanged on the pier, her hat flew away in a second. Isabelle rushed into her best friend's arms, the only being in existence to find welcome there.

**\--ETERNAL HORIZONS--**


	19. EPILOGUE

The Doom Slayer advanced into the deepest sanctum of Urdak, seeking the one who had sold mankind to Hell. What that had bought, towered around him as the singing architecture of false paradise, a hollow peace born of subjugation.

"For millennia, we have survived," declared the Khan Makyr. "Made others sacrifice in the name of our prosperity, so that they may in turn find redemption."

That alien being gestured with utter distaste toward one she had thought so little of in the past.

"Who are you? A human, once a mortal, to defy our tradition—!?"

That human was not alone. The Khan Makyr cried in disbelief, as another of its kind— so different in shape, in origin, in age— struck out against those words.

"Your traditions are awful!" condemned Isabelle, who was proof there had always been another way. 

Shamed and humiliated, the Khan Makyr's scream shook the heavens. The end of Urdak had come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to my partner, my supportive friends,
> 
> and to you, especially if you have been the Mayor.
> 
> Black Lives Matter.
> 
> Rip and tear those who would sacrifice others to fuel their evil designs.
> 
> Love is the root of both radical anger and radical compassion.
> 
> Give welcome to weary angels.
> 
> Love like heaven, fight like hell.


End file.
